


Strength

by kleinepfoetchen



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 30,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleinepfoetchen/pseuds/kleinepfoetchen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron is struggling, and Nasir offers what he needs the most. - The start of a collection of Agron/Nasir oneshots. (various ratings from T to M)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Strength  
> Summary: Agron is struggling, and Nasir offers what he needs the most.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,139  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

The sun set, slowly approaching the distant horizon. The fiery ball of light coloured the surrounding landscape in different shades of orange and yellow. No longer did it look bald and empty now that they had left the snow-covered mountains behind. Seemingly endless forests lay before them, would offer shelter and protection from possible followers, although Nasir believed that if the Romans had still been following them, they would have found them by now.

They had brought the group to a stop a while ago. He and Agron had stood guard, watching out for possible enemies, until they had been convinced that folks could rest for the night without any harm to be expected. If there was anything this group of former slaves deserved, it was a quiet night.

Taking a deep breath, Nasir closed his eyes, allowing the comforting relief to settle in. No follower was behind them, no battle lay ahead. They had come far since they had left the battlefield with a badly injured Spartacus, who had eventually left the world for a more peaceful place.

The thought pained him of course, but Nasir was convinced that Spartacus had reached his goal. He had freed so many, had stepped up against the mighty Empire that was Rome, and would be reunited with his beloved wife now that he had left the mortal world behind.

Agron seemed to have a different opinion regarding this topic though. Spartacus would always be remembered as the hero he had been, but victory certainly wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

The formerly so enjoyable relief was replaced by concern as he opened his eyes again. His lover had left the group shortly after the duty of standing guard had been taken over by others. Nasir had decided to give Agron a few moments of quiet, but now was getting worried again.

The loss of Spartacus, one of the few human beings Agron had ever trusted, was only one of several reasons that were currently upsetting the man. Every single one of them had seen a lot, knew what pain and the loss of dignity was like.

Nasir himself had been a slave for long enough to remember every moment of having to serve a dominus. No rights. He hadn’t been more than a submissive piece of meat, used for his master’s entertainment and pleasure.

He could also remember how a sword had been rammed into his chest, how the wound had been sealed with the burning hot tip of another one. Pain was a familiar to him.

Yet few of them had walked through the living nightmare which Agron had to experience when he had been crucified by the Romans. Nasir thanked the Gods every day for returning his loved one to his arms, but knew that the horrible memories hadn’t been removed from Agron’s memories with that.

Finding his partner didn’t require much effort. Hidden behind a tree, Nasir watched as his lover stood over his sword, most likely after dropping it to the ground. His face was tense with frustration as he bent over, reached for the weapon and tried to pick it up. His hands closed around the hilt. He managed to lift it, managed to hold it for a while until his fingers started to tremble. He fought against it with pure determination, sweat breaking out across his forehead.

But again, his injured hand wasn’t strong enough. Muscles had been damaged, Nasir assumed. Maybe, if the Gods will, they would heal enough so his lover would be able to use his hands for swordfights again. So far, that didn’t seem to be an option though, and Agron was very well aware of that. The pain in the man’s eyes tore right into Nasir’s heart. So did the roar of utter frustration that followed.

For a moment, Nasir considered to back off, knowing that Agron’s pride forbid him to show any weakness, if possible. Then again, he wasn’t just a random member of an army, an unknown warrior. They had shared a closeness and connection that seemed to be unique in a world full of blood and sweat.

Quietly, slowly, Nasir made his way over to his lover. He knew Agron had noticed his presence the moment he had left his hiding place. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t even make an attempt at getting away from him, or at hiding how vulnerable he felt.

Following his instinct entirely now, Nasir stepped closer. He gazed up at the taller man, whose eyes willingly met his. Like so many times before, it seemed like he could stare right into his lover’s soul. There was so much pain hidden beneath the surface, so much disappointment. The man, who hadn’t trusted anyone for years, wouldn’t ask for any kind of comfort, although he seemed to need it more than ever.

Lifting his hand, Nasir captured his partner’s cheek. Gently, he brushed his thumb over the man’s lips, caressing them ever so lightly. Even a moment like this, filled with so much heartache, was enough to cause an almost magical connection between them.

“I’m a fighter,” Agron stated then, his voice low and rough with emotions. “The battlefield is my home. They took that away from me.”

Carefully, Nasir took one of Agron’s hands into his. Ever so lightly, he caressed the wound, hidden beneath a dirty layer of cloths. “You’re still a warrior at heart, and will be forever,” he stated. “But no longer is the battlefield your only home.”

With those words, he stared up into his lover’s eyes again, trying to put his thoughts into his expression and bring across what he couldn’t put into words. Home was no longer a battle against Romans and against slavery. Home was also by the side of the one person who loved him more than anything else in this world, or the next.

Endlessly long moments passed until the hint of a smile lit Agron’s face as he understood. “I assigned myself to protect you at all costs, yet I depend on you.”

“Neither do I depend on you, nor do you on me,” Nasir assured him. “My place is at your side, and I’d like to believe that yours is at mine. A protector is not what I’m seeking, and never has been.”

“So you…” Agron started. His voice trailed off, but Nasir knew very well what his partner had intended to say. Was he still a strong, admirable man now that he was struggling with his injuries and depended on help?

Nasir decided against giving a vocal answer in response. Instead, he leant in and pressed a soft kiss against his lover’s lips. Agron kissed back instantly, pulling him closer as he did so. They had found home at each other’s side, and no challenge would dare to change that.


	2. A New Life Lies Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: A New Life Lies Ahead  
> Summary: Agron and Nasir will face their future together.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,223  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author's note: Thank you so much for all the kudos! :)

The sun was rising behind the distant mountains, causing the trees to draw long shadows on the leaf-covered ground. Fog lay upon the landscape like a thick blanket, protecting the world from the cool air that turned breath into tiny clouds. When Agron left the comforting warmth of his tent, he was greeted by nothing but the wind, gently caressing the tall fir trees, and the morning songs of nearby birds.

Standing guard didn’t seem to be required out here, neither the Romans nor anyone else would try to find them out here. Hidden in the shadows, the group of former slaves finally had gotten the much desired chance to have a peaceful night without the fear that behind the next tree, an enemy might be awaiting them.

Yet Agron couldn’t let go of a habit that had proved itself useful during more dangerous times. The urge to protect himself and those that depended on him was still strong. He was a fighter after all, not someone who used to hide and avoid a battle.

He sank onto a nearby tree stump, bracing himself on his knees with his elbows. Agron gritted his teeth as he fought against the pain that shot through his body at every abrupt movement. Injuries took their time to heal.

And some never would.

Victory had been within their reach. Agron had believed that for once, there was a true chance that Rome could fall. It had seemed like following Crixus had been the right and only choice for him to make. After all, the battlefield had been his home for far too long. He wasn’t one to run and hide. He was used to facing his enemy to give them their well-deserved punishment.

Obviously, the Gods hadn’t favoured him for once. Crixus had died, and so had many others. He had been crucified, and only saved thanks to Spartacus’ deal with Crassus. Hadn’t their men managed to catch the piece of shit that was Tiberius, five hundred of their best fighters would have been lost to the enemy for good.

Victory. Agron knew that Spartacus had died with the belief that they had won. Former slaves without rights had been freed and protected. This could certainly be considered as a victory. But Agron himself was eaten up by doubts more than ever. Could they have done more? And what lay ahead now?

A movement behind him interrupted Agron’s thoughts. He didn’t move, didn’t bother to turn around, knowing when to trust his instincts. He could feel Nasir approaching more than he could hear him. It seemed to be a strange kind of gift he had developed ever since he had discovered how much the Syrian meant to him. He could sense his presence, knew when the other man was in trouble of any kind, or could be occupied elsewhere.

Nasir said nothing to announce himself. Two arms wrapped around him from behind, a chin came to rest on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but with an instant effect. Something deep within Agron seemed to settle down immediately. He could feel himself relaxing. Instinctively, he sank back into his lover’s chest. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to enjoy the closeness and the warmth that was radiating from the other man.

Only fools fell in love: not too long ago, he had been entirely convinced of this statement. After all, one had to be fool if they dedicated themselves to another person. After the loss of his brother, Agron had decided to follow Spartacus and fight for his cause, but certainly, he wouldn’t give his heart to another person again. Taking care of his own safety and newly earned freedom would require enough attention and strength. Certainly, he hadn’t been prepared for the little man, who had walked into his life and had conquered his heart without his notice.

But did he regret that he had broken his own promise? Not even for the blink of an eye. Nasir provided something that had turned out to be an interesting and rather enjoyable experience. Of course, his jealousy tended to get into the way at times: he was a possessive man, and no one was allowed to cast a longing glance towards his lover. The man belonged to him, and he would do whatever he could to keep him in his arms, safe and sound.

Only fools fell in love, and when it came to Nasir, Agron was more than willing to make a fool of himself if what he was allowed to experience thanks to his lover was the reward for that. He had found some kind of home in an unexpected place, and wasn’t going to leave it again. The Gods had decided to give him back to Nasir, and he wouldn’t be mad enough to leave him ever again.

“Are you still troubled?” the Syrian asked quietly then, breaking the comfortable silence between the pair.

“Not as much as I used to,” Agron admitted. His thoughts threatened to drift off again as he remembered that once upon a time, so many years in the past that one could almost forget such times had ever existed, he had been a little boy with a brother. He had been robbed of his freedom, had believed that ahead of him lay a life of endless fighting, of constant fear that the next battle in the arena could be his last. He had been trained to kill, had been taught to follow his dominus’ wishes without a second thought, without a will of his own.

How could a man like him let go of a life which he had lived for so long? How could a man like him get used to being free? Could he ever be free in the first place?

According to Spartacus, he could. The man had fought for freedom, and Agron didn’t doubt for the split of a moment that the former gladiator had been honest when voicing his gratitude for leaving the world as a free man. Who was he to decline what his friend had fought for: a cause he had fought for himself?

“What lies before us is a life that couldn’t differ more from anything we used to know,” he added.

“There’s truth to your words,” Nasir agreed. His lips brushed over his lover’s neck in the whisper of a kiss. Agron shivered, instantly feeling an all too familiar longing for what else those talented lips had to offer. “Does the future frighten you?”

To his own surprise, Agron couldn’t help but smile. The future that lay ahead was different and he didn’t know how easily he would get used to it, how easily he could let go of old habits that had become so much part of his character. But did that frighten him?

“Not as long as I can be sure of the one who owns my heart to be by my side,” he stated. 

Agron could feel Nasir’s smirk against his skin. Of course he could be certain of his boy’s love: he had proven so on many occasions. Only fools fell in love: to him, there was no truth to this statement anymore. A new life lay ahead, so different to everything they knew, but neither of them had to face it on their own.


	3. Of Love and Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Of Love and Desire  
> Summary: Nasir thinks about his relationship with Agron, and the enjoyable details of it.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: R (for language and mild adult content)  
> Word Count: 1,322  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

The rebels’ camp had fallen silent a while ago. Nasir was grateful for the quiet: since Spartacus’ army was growing with almost every day, quiet moments had become annoyingly rare. Now he could only hear the soft rushing of the wind outside. The flickering flames of a few candles offered just enough light for him to see the necessary.

He could already feel himself slowly dozing off, lured to sleep by the sensation of having his lover so close by his side. Warm breath was gently caressing his neck, at times making him shiver. He could feel his partner’s heartbeat. The heavy weight that was partly resting on top of him provided an interesting kind of security.

Hadn’t the both of them been too exhausted from days without sleep, filled with one battle following the other instead, they would’ve certainly added another round or two. A wicked smirk lit Nasir’s face. Once more, he shivered as he let his eyes rake over his lover’s exposed body.

He had seen several men in the past that had caught his attention, that had been lovely to look at. A slave though wasn’t allowed to have an opinion, or even thoughts, of their own. They belonged to their dominus: body and soul.

A brief flash of guilt struck him as Nasir remembered how he had tried to kill Spartacus after the man had liberated him. He had followed an instinct, afraid of what would await him in the unknown world. At least, with his old dominus, he had been aware of what the next day would bring.

Now that he had tasted the sweetness of freedom though, Nasir knew he would never become anyone’s slave again. Said unknown world was indeed scary, but had so much more to offer than he would have ever dared to imagine, especially not for himself.

Once more, his attention turned back to Agron. His smirk returned, softened though as he studied his lover a little more closely. Who’d think during a battle that the former gladiator could look so peaceful and relaxed while asleep? Nasir knew from own experience how much trust was required to sleep that deeply, especially with another person around.

What the two of them shared certainly hadn’t been expected by him when Nasir had started to embrace his newfound freedom. He had heard of the myth that a strong connection and intense intimacy could develop between lovers, but hadn’t believed in it.

Surely, he had felt certain tensions deep within him, had imagined and thought up fantasies, but had never believed in the possibility of any of those to become true. For far too long, he had to take care of his dominus’ needs. He had almost forgotten that sex was originally meant to cause joy for both partners. It had to be done when the dominus wanted to be pleasured, and he had done his duty like he was supposed to as a good slave.

Who would have dared to imagine that some of the stories could possibly be true?

Nasir had picked up on Agron’s attempts at getting in contact with him right from the start. It had only been a question of time until his stubbornness had faded, had been replaced by serious attraction and interest in the man. He couldn’t deny he had really had his moments of blushing, especially when he felt those tempting waves of desire deep within him. There was something, so old and primal that he wondered where it had been hiding for all those years, and it wanted to be satisfied.

It had been satisfied eventually. Over and over again. Sighing comfortably, Nasir adjusted his position slightly. It never failed to amaze him how much in synch he and Agron were. They stood by each other’s side, and knew how to read each other easily like a map.

In all possible ways. Nasir could feel himself awakening again as his thoughts started to drift off, returned to the events that had taken place just this night. Agron seemed to have memorized every bit of his body, knowing exactly which action to take to get whatever reaction he desire. He had found a little spot somewhere at the left of Nasir’s left side of the neck that drove him wild, knew where to touch and where to kiss in order to either increase or ease the blazing flame of lust.

And he himself seemed to be as talented. For the first time, Nasir enjoyed to see the pleasing effect his actions had on his partner. Who would have expected that loving the person and getting intimate with them willingly would cause such a change of experience?

He loved the way Agron kissed him back, even more hungrily the more effort he put into making the first step. He loved to hear those sighs and moans that would escape his lover’s lips, how impatient hands would tear down his clothes, or how nails would dig into his skin, clawing at it as if to find a hold. He took the left marks with almost more pride than his battle scars.

Blinking, Nasir forced his mind to return to the present. He could feel it again: the burning heat in the pit of his stomach. Unable to resist, he lifted his hand. Gentle fingertips brushed over Agron’s cheek, then along the length of his neck. Ever so lightly, he caressed the other man’s skin, brushed over scars and instantly remembered the stories that were linked to every single one of them.

The moment Agron shifted, Nasir knew he had woken up as well, despite the eyes that stayed closed. He continued his journey, caressing as much of the heated skin beneath his fingertips as he could reach.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” a sleepy voice asked then.

“How could I possibly sleep, having you so close by my side?” Nasir asked back.

Lifting his head off his chest, Agron met his gaze. Amusement flickered in his eyes, along with something else that Nasir knew only too well. He shivered again. “So you intend to say that it’s my fault you’re sleepless tonight?”

Nasir couldn’t resist a grin as he answered, “I might to be the one who’s to blame for that, as I seem to have lost all control over my thoughts. None of them are appropriate for a restful night.”

Agron mirrored his smirk. “Would you mind to provide examples?”

He didn’t even consider giving a vocal answer in response. Instead, Nasir leaned in as much as needed. His lips brushed over those of his lover, ever so lightly. His tongue caressed the warm flesh, teasing just enough to inflame his partner’s lust. He knew Agron loved to tease as much as him, but as an impatient man, he didn’t bother to deal with that more than necessary.

Like this time. His lips crashed heavily against Nasir’s, in a deep, hungry kiss that sent shockwaves of desire through the younger man’s body. Heated skin pressed against skin as the exchanged kisses quickly grew more urgent. Both men knew how to arouse the other to an almost painful point, with little actions like well-placed kisses and skilled hands, finding the right spots. By the time Nasir felt his lover’s hard erection pressing against his thigh, he knew he couldn’t keep their little game of foreplay going any longer. He wasn’t going to shoot his load before things had even fully started.

“Can you understand me now?” he asked breathlessly between kisses. “How could I possibly consider sleep when my mind rather imagines how you fuck me?”

Agron’s grin returned. “Who can blame you for holding such strong desire for me?”

But before Nasir could respond to his bold words, Agron pressed another heated kiss to his lips before he adjusted their position. Both men easily forgot the surrounding world as they satisfied each other’s and their own need for intimacy.


	4. Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Fools  
> Summary: Who cares for foolish idiots?  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13 (for language)  
> Word Count: 956  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Feelings hadn’t been made for him. Very early, Nasir had learnt not to develop any of them: neither the good nor the bad ones. Having no feelings at all made slavery bearable. He was treated like an object, so he could fully turn into one.

The sweet taste of freedom had changed that though. He had regained the right to make decisions for himself. One of them had resulted in growing interest for a certain gladiator. Agron had conquered his heart, had caused the spark deep within him that had been needed to reawaken his feelings.

Desire for an attractive man was one thing. Truly loving said person was an entirely different story though. Never before, anyone had cared for him, not so deeply anyway. Those feelings were welcome.

Nasir’s place would be forever by his lover’s side. It felt so natural to follow Agron through the slim, wavy paths that led through the small village. Spartacus had allowed them to rest for a few hours before they would leave for another walk until nightfall.

“What a nice place, hidden behind old, dirty walls,” he said as he studied a line of houses.

“Nice village indeed.” Agron nodded in agreement. “Another sight seems a lot more appealing though.”

Nasir knew the offered smirk only too well. Something in the pit of his belly immediately rose to attention. Although desire had been a huge part of what had attracted them to each other, their relationship had never just been about sex. Yet, there were moments when the tension grew so thick that Nasir caught himself by mentally planning how they could find a less crowded place for some intimacy. He would find himself distracted by delicious memories.

Agron hovering above him, placing a trail of hungry kisses and sweet bites down the length of Nasir’s neck. Heated skin meeting skin, nerves catching fire, causing need to increase until a wild storm of lust would break free.

Shaking his head, Nasir tried to get himself back to the present. He found his man grinning at him now, looking as cocky as ever.

“Am I right to assume that we shared a thought?” Agron wanted to know.

“Have I noticed desire to find out behind your words?” Nasir teased back.

Agron didn’t need a further invitation. Like usually. With one long step, he closed the distance between them. Nasir’s arms instinctively closed around his lover’s neck as he was greeted with a modest kiss that couldn’t fully hide the longing behind his partner’s actions. Nasir couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for people, constantly passing by, he would have eagerly moved them a step further. His mind seemed to be swimming, like it had on so many occasions before, his grip of reality loosening. One could easily get lost in a kiss, even when tender like this. Probably, the sweet ones were the most dangerous ones anyway, as no one expected a gladiator, ready to ram his sword down an enemy’s throat, to offer such loving affection.

Only when the kiss was broken, his mind regained the ability to focus. Yet, Nasir needed a moment to spot the angry glare Agron shot at something behind them. Curiously turning around himself, he raised an eyebrow. Behind them stood one of the village’s citizens, an average man, staring back at them with a disgusted face. Nasir still didn’t understand what had gone wrong, but the tension that was radiating from his lover now put his senses on alert. He knew this glare, and thanked the Gods that it hadn’t been cast at him so far.

“You got a problem there?” Agron snapped at the man. “Would you be so kind to share thoughts of foolish mind rather than voicing your dismay through huffs of annoyed kind?”

“I don’t see need to,” the man said, straightening himself. With disgust, he added, “nor desire I to.”

Agron snorted. “May I attempt to read foolish mind then?” He stepped closer, every muscle tense. One wrong word and he would snap, would launch himself at the citizen. “Are you one of those that share belief no man shall hold interest in another?”

The man grimaced. “Indeed I share belief. Liaisons like those men of your kind prefer aren’t natural.”

“Are they not?” Agron’s expression turned wild. Nasir barely managed to get into his way. Ignoring the concern that one day, his lover might simply run him over in rage, he pressed a calming hand against the taller man’s chest.

“Don’t you waste energy on him,” he said soothingly. “Shall he dwell in foolish beliefs. Let’s turn backs on him and find a better place.”

For another critical moment, Agron kept his eyes focused on the man, face grim, body ready to strike. Then, finally, he straightened himself and released a cold chuckle. “As always, there’s truth to words of yours,” he stated. “Fucking idiot shall choke on foolish words. Pity he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.” His grin had returned, predatory sparks appeared in his eyes. Smoothly, he pulled Nasir into another, hungrier kiss, purposefully adding an extra bit of passion to entertain the rude citizen. Pulling back again, Agron threw another sharp grin at the man, before he wrapped an arm around Nasir’s waist and dragged him with him.

“Pity that not everyone can bathe in the joy of getting a good fuck like you’re about to,” he said.

Shaking his head in amusement, Nasir couldn’t help but laugh. Not too long ago, Agron would have unleashed his anger in a different way. The man’s words had frustrated them both. Who cared for narrow minded pieces of shit though if one had so much more enjoyable activities to take care of instead?


	5. Attention Seekers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Attention Seekers  
> Summary: Nasir tries to calm Agron’s jealousy again.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13 (for language)  
> Word Count: 956  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author’s note: This was a request by boriqua522. I hope you like what I did with it. :) Thanks for the request: I love getting prompts. :D

He was no warrior: despite his talents, Nasir was still convinced by this statement. He was, however, madly in love with a certain former gladiator, and as battlefields were Agron’s second home, learning how to fight had seemed to be a necessary evil. Not that Nasir minded any longer. In fact, so he had to admit, victory had its very own sweet taste, and a rather arousing effect, too.

Nasir couldn’t deny he had enjoyed the praising he had received from fellow rebels after saving a young female slave from the brutal hands of her former dominus. Said woman, Atrina, was following him ever since that moment, voicing her gratitude over and over again. By now, he had to admit her attention was starting to annoy him though.

“Isn’t there anything I can do to prove myself as useful?” Atrina asked for what had to be the hundredth time within the past hour. Huge, blue eyes stared at him hopefully. Nasir couldn’t really blame her. Many new rebels felt the urge to prove their worth, even though Spartacus would never expect them to.

“No person has to convince us of their value,” he repeated, also for the hundredth time. “Spartacus surely wouldn’t mind if you allowed yourself to rest for a while. I understand you want to show gratitude, but message was understood already.”

Atrina nodded, more because she knew that it was expected rather than because she actually understood, Nasir assumed. Fortunately, she stopped asking though and turned to letting her eyes wander across the camp area instead. Her attention eventually stayed on Gannicus, walking past them with a woman at each arm and a huge jug of wine in hands. Nasir shook his head in amusement. How the man managed to fuck while drunk like that, and even pay attention to more than one lover at a time, would forever be a mystery to him.

Believing Atrina to be occupied for a while, possibly even joining in the little group, Nasir let his eyes wander in search for his own partner. Finding Agron wasn’t difficult. While most others were busy with relaxing after yet another successful battle, his lover was sitting near the campfire, glaring ahead as if someone had seriously offended him again. Inwardly, Nasir sighed. He knew this expression only too well. He even had a faint idea of what might have caused it this time, even though he believed said reasons would be absolutely silly, even for the man in front of him.

Unwilling to see his beloved like this any longer than necessary though, Nasir made his way over to the sulking warrior. He made use of his well-trained self control to prevent himself from showing his amusement, knowing that some topics weren’t made for joking. He knew Agron would never unleash his anger on him, but that didn’t mean he could or should endlessly provoke him.

“Don’t you desire to join in celebrations?” Nasir wanted to know.

He received a short, frustrated glare from his man before Agron returned to staring at the fire in front of him. “I do not.”

Sinking to his knees behind the sitting man, Nasir wrapped his arms around his beloved from behind. He ignored the way Agron tensed in dismay, instead only tightened his grip. “Will you enlighten me on what made you sulk?”

“Nothing,” Agron growled, sounding seriously offended at the accusation.

“Oh, apologies, I was mistaken,” Nasir teased sarcastically. “Maybe frown and pout were false evidence then.”

Agron released another angry growl, didn’t answer though. Resting his chin on the taller man’s shoulder, Nasir waited. His man wasn’t one to keep quiet about reasons that might have caused his dismay. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Shouldn’t you be watching shadow that’s following you everywhere since liberated from former dominus?” he snapped eventually.

Once more, Nasir resisted the urge to laugh. “Jealousy has caused frustration?” he asked instead.

This time, Agron didn’t even attempt to deny the truth behind the Syrian’s words. “Weren’t you told I’d slay everyone who attempts to wrest you from my arms? My words held no intent of joking.”

“Atrina has sparked jealousy?” Despite former expectation, Nasir shook his head in disbelief. “Such ridiculous thought for such smart man.”

“Ridiculous?” Spinning around enough so he could face the shorter man, Agron hissed, “Have your eyes been blinded by pride of own success? Atrina follows like shadow, and can’t take eyes of you even for the split of a moment.”

“You don’t see gratitude of a liberated slave behind pretty face?” Nasir wanted to know. “Also, it seems Atrina has laid eyes upon other male already.” With a smirk, he nodded towards where he had stood a moment ago. Atrina was now engaged in a conversation with Gannicus, who had abandoned his female followers, still clutching the jug of wine in his hands though. The smirk on the gladiator’s face was only too familiar to both men.

This time, Nasir couldn’t prevent himself from chuckling as he caught Agron’s look. His man’s expression had softened, yet some sparks remained in his eyes. His stubborn lover hated to admit he might have been wrong.

“Furthermore, how could you compare self to her?” Nasir playfully rolled his eyes before he offered a wicked smirk. One of his hands left its place around his lover’s shoulders and instead slowly slid down his chest. “Tight skin, hard muscles and battle-scarred skin of my man are prefered to soft curves and sweetness of ladies.”

Agron raised an eyebrow in response, but didn’t even bother to hide the hints of desire that was already blazing in his eyes. “Choice to humour me isn’t a wise one, little man.”

“Calling me that isn’t either.” Nasir’s grin widened. “Now, why don’t we put energy wasted on useless anger to better use? Take it to bed maybe?”

Agron stared back at him, obviously debating whether or not allowing his lover to win this argument. “There’s still celebration to do,” he said then, returning his man’s grin.

Nasir offered laughter in response as he led his lover back to their tent. Agron was famous for his rage and jealousy. He couldn’t deny there was something flattering about being desired so much though. Especially if afterwards, his successful attempts at calming his man were rewarded like this.


	6. …to Fight, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: …to Fight, Part 1  
> Summary: Agron always protects Nasir. It’s time to take turns.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,567  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

With every year he had spent in slavery, Nasir had lost another bit of himself, of the individual he had once been. Existing to serve, he hadn’t minded anything but his dominus’ wishes and needs. Remembering no other life anymore after a while, he had gotten rid of all kinds of feelings.

His liberation at the hands of Spartacus and his army of rebels had turned his life upside down eventually. Nasir had learnt to be a human being with rights again, had remembered what it was like to think, to wish, to feel. And to love.

Never before, Nasir had felt more protected than he did in the arms of Agron. The former gladiator had watched out for him almost right from the start, even a while before the Syrian had sparked the German’s interest.

Their dynamic had felt so natural that somewhere along the line, Nasir had gotten used to it, had almost taken it for granted. Agron, the strong warrior, would always fight by his side.

He had paid the prize for his belief the moment Agron had confronted him with his wish to follow Crixus into battle. They hadn’t parted the way they usually would, promising to hold each other in loving embrace again. Chances of return had been as low as ever, even more after Naevia had come back with news of fallen Crixus.

And once more, Nasir’s world had been messed up. Guilt had struck him with a force that had threatened to rip his heart apart. Sleep and food had been the furthest from his mind as he had wondered how he should ever be able to cope. If he could just get his beloved back, could hold him in his arms again, could tell him how deeply he was loved.

The gods had eventually shown merci, had brought Agron home. Nasir had gotten the chance he had been longing for so desperately. His love, his life, was right by his side again, and he was determined as ever to do whatever he could to keep it that way.

His surroundings had taken a backseat, almost seemed to fade into a blurry mess of moving figures and mumbling voices, as Nasir carefully led Agron to his tent. Their tent, to be exact. He had hoped so dearly to call it that again, but hadn’t dared to believe his deepest wish could become true.

Now there he was, walking by his side, heavily leaning into him, barely able to keep himself on walking. Nasir didn’t dare to imagine how much pain his lover was suffering, how battered and bruised his body truly was. So far, he hadn’t spoken more than a short sentence, no one knew exactly what had happened to him, but his physical appearance gave a lot away. One glance onto bloody hands made Nasir cringe, hoping his suspicion was nothing else but an unrealistic idea.

His heart ached at the sight of his beloved, who was struggling with every single step. With a firm glare, Nasir tried to keep people out of their way as good as possible. No one was supposed to get closer than necessary.

It was a strange feeling, forming in the depth of his chest. He experienced an undying wish to protect the man by his side, to shield him from anything that could bother him in any way. Certainly, this was the way Agron had felt on so many occasions: the urge to protect, to keep the person by one’s side safe, no matter at which cost.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as they pushed their way into the warm, welcoming tent. Carefully, Nasir helped Agron to sit on the edge of the bed before he dragged a stool over and sat across of his beloved. He seeked the taller man’s eyes and eventually made contact with them. What he got to see though concerned him even more than all injuries summed up. Those usually sparkling, bright eyes looked empty, blank. Pain and exhaustion reflected in an overwhelming matter. They were eyes of a broken man.

But said eyes belonged to his man. His beloved. His heart and his life. Tears started to rise, yet the powerful feeling in the depth of his chest stayed. He loved the man in front of him, so deeply that it hurt. He wanted to protect him, heal him, save him, in every way he would need. He would give something back for everything he had received, for all those times Agron had tried to keep him out of harm’s way, for all those moments in which he had proven to him over and over again that he was no longer a worthless slave but a strong man, admirable and free. No single word needed to be spoken to tell Nasir how helpless, how ashamed his partner was feeling.

“By the gods,” Nasir managed to whisper eventually. “What have they done to you?” He shuddered as Agron turned his hands so he was revealing his blood-soaked palms, covered with bandages. “Have they...are those wounds of nails, run through hands?” 

The hint of a tired nod was his answer, confirming what he had hoped not to be true. His beloved had been crucified by the Romans, had been nailed to a cross, probably left in the burning sun for hours upon hours until they had sent him back to Spartacus. How could any man, even the strongest gladiator, not be broken after such a horrifying experience?

Nasir needed another few moments until realisation hit him once more. Nails, run through palms, most likely had caused enough damage so that the formerly so strong warrior wouldn’t be able to hold a sword for a long time, maybe forever. The fact struck him like lightning, bringing a new rush of pain with it.

The Romans had broken him, in more way than one. A lot of patience and support, offered by loving hands, would be required to ease pain, and maybe even heal some wounds. No one would ever dare to get between them again.

As he made this mental promise to himself, something within Nasir loosened itself. No longer could he contain emotions. They fought their way to the surface with unstoppable force. Moving closer, Nasir captured Agron’s face with his palms, carefully making the man look at him again. Tears threatened to fog his view as he managed to offer a painful smile at the same time.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered. “You’re home. So desperately, your return has been desired, and never again shall you leave my arms. Romans might have tried to break one of strongest enemies, yet have they underestimated power of loving hands. For so long, you’ve shielded me from harm of any kind. Allow me to be shield for you now. My place is forever by your side, even more in aftermaths of horrifying nightmare.” Leaning in, he placed a loving kiss onto Agron’s bruised forehead. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he added, “Please don’t allow fear of weakness and helplessness to cause insecurity and shame. The one who owns my heart shall never worry about that. Strong man doesn’t need to hold sword and spill blood to be admired and loved.”

Those words seemed to get through to whatever thick cloud was surrounding Agron. Something inside him broke apart. One lonely tear slowly rolled down battered cheek. Crying himself, Nasir kissed it away before he showered the entire face with loving pecks.

Neither of them spoke a word when Nasir eventually took care of his man’s injuries. To his relief, Agron didn’t fight back, even once. He sat still all the while, blankly staring ahead as Nasir cleaned dirty skin and banaged open wounds. No words needed to be exchanged: the Syrian knew how to read his beloved’s needs. Carefully, he helped Agron to lie down, but not alone. Nasir joined him in bed, adjusting positions so his partner could rest his head on his chest. Two surprisingly strong arms wrapped around the taller man’s frame, holding him close. A thick blanket provided needed warmth for the both of them.

Nasir didn’t sleep, didn’t even consider it, although his body was craving much needed rest. Instead, all his attention stayed focused on the man in his arms, finally back where he was supposed to be. He didn’t want to miss a single moment of it, or allow any intruder to disturb.

Ever so gently, he kept on running a hand through his beloved’s hair. As he placed a loving kiss on top of his head, he felt Agron move. Their eyes met once more, but aside from pain and shame, Nasir spotted something else. It was a hint of something he knew, but yet felt so different to what he had seen before.

“Gratitude,” he said quietly, his expression emphasizing his words’ impact.

“Everything for my beloved,” the Syrian whispered back, kissing his partner’s forehead. A new rush of warmth filled his heart as Agron placed a bandaged hand on his chest. Nasir could feel how his man slowly relaxed until he drifted off into a mild slumber. Finally closing his eyes as well, he listened to his partner’s even breathing and instinctively tightened his arm around him. Hard work lay ahead, for the both of them, but never before, he had been so determined to fight.


	7. Hold Me Close, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Hold Me Close, Part 1  
> Summary: Nasir is unwell while Agron is more than willing to come to aid.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,182  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author’s note: I almost forgot about this story…oops. ;)

A mild coldness lay in the air of a late afternoon. Soon, the sun would sink to the horizon and disappear behind near mountains. The forest was already covered in a precious mix of golden shades. Autumn was approaching, and with it came the colder days. For a month now, one would wake up to a chill and foggy morning.

Quite a few rebels minded the cooler weather, being used to much warmer temperatures. Agron only rewarded them with an amused smile. Coming from East of the Rhine, he was used to much colder days and nights. People would have to get used to it if they wanted to continue their journey to the North.

He also knew that somewhere along the line, the rebels would have to decide whether or not they wanted to stay together, and if so, where to head next. Germania? Gaul? Any other place that would serve as a home for those that longed for peace so desperately?

Questions would eventually be answered though, and so far, Agron didn’t bother to pay attention to them. After all, every woman and man among those rebels was now free. Everyone could make choices based on their own wishes.

Satisfied with himself and the world for once, Agron made his way through the temporary camp in search for Nasir. That the two of them would stay together wasn’t even up for debate. Fact was proven to him over and over again when the two of them had to part, even though they knew reunion would follow in a couple of hours. While Agron had spent most of the day on the hunt with Spartacus, Crixus and Gannicus, Nasir had stayed with the others, minding necessary work at the camp.

A few hours, and he was already missing the Syrian as if they had been parted for months. Not long ago, he would have cursed himself for feeling that way. By now, he couldn’t have cared less, knowing said feelings were mutual. He and Nasir belonged together. Even the gods wouldn’t be able to get between them, let alone missions or other intruders. Although missing his old home, Agron was even willing to go back to Syria if his man desired so.

“Naevia!” he shouted as Crixus’ woman crossed his path. “Have you seen Nasir?”

She stopped in her tracks, looking up at him with a concern that made him raise an eyebrow in confusion. “I did earlier this afternoon,” she answered, “but…” She sighed. “His indisposition catches even inexperienced eye, yet stubborn boy refuses to listen.”

“He’s unwell?” Agron asked back, not bothering to hide the immediate concern in his voice. Such a reveal was nothing he had been prepared for. But Naevia’s eyes proved her words true. “What has caused suffering?”

Naevia opened her mouth to answer, didn’t get to a response though as the Syrian himself appeared behind her. One look upon his man and Agron could see it, too. Unnaturally pale and with heavy lids, Nasir could barely keep himself upright. The frown upon his forehead mirrored the man’s refusal to sit down and rest. With two look steps, Agron was by his side.

“Nasir!” he scolded, unable to hide the concern from his voice. “Why are you out and about while clearly, sickness has come upon you? Resting inside tent is what shall be done!”

“Rest isn’t needed,” Nasir answered weakly, despite his best attempt at sounding convincing. “Nor is it desired.”

Under normal circumstances, an argument between the both of them would have followed. The sight in front of him was so pitiful though that Agron didn’t even feel the needed madness to scold again. Wordlessly, he reached out instead, resting the back of his hand against his man’s forehead. Nasir sighed involuntarily at the cool sensation against heated skin, offering at least mild relief. Naevia’s eyes closed in worry and guilt, a mild sigh escaping her.

“Forehead is blazing with fever,” Agron growled in newfound anger.

“Apologies,” Naevia responded. “Help should’ve been forced upon Nasir in disregard of his wishes, if he refused to accept the necessary.”

“No blame is turned towards your actions and choices, Naevia,” Agron said, eyes still focused on the man in front of him, “as stubborn lad would’ve found way to escape needed treatment.”

Nasir’s eyes narrowed, yet he didn’t seem to gather the needed strength to defend himself. Instead, he swayed slightly, instinctively taking hold on his lover’s arm in an attempt to prevent himself from breaking down in loss of consciousness. Even the stubborn Syrian seemed to understand now that those two staring at him with concern were right with their assumptions.

“Body slaves know nothing about sickness. An unfamiliar word to our kind,” he tried to explain.

Agron’s eyes widened for the beat of a moment before he sighed and shook his head in disapproval. “Time has passed since collar of slavery has rested heavily upon your neck,” he stated. “May needed treatment be offered to you now?”

Defeated and either unable or unwilling to argue, Nasir nodded. Gently wrapping an arm around his beloved, Agron guided him towards their shared tent. An unnatural, unhealthy heat was radiating from the shorter man, and after another moment of stubbornness, he eventually leaned heavily onto his taller partner.

Agron swallowed down the strong rush of concern, knowing he had to keep a clear head if he wanted to offer decent support. Unnatural and unhealthy heat was radiating from the shorter man’s body. After another struggle of stubbornness, he finally gave in and leaned heavily onto his taller partner for support.

A new rush of concern threatened to distract Agron, but was swallowed down immediately. He knew he needed to stay focused if he wanted to offer decent support. Nasir could suffer from any kind of infection, caused by many reasons that came to his mind.

“If sickness is treated well, no longer than couple of days should be wasted with bedrest,” he tried to assured his beloved.

Nasir didn’t answer. Firmly ignoring yet another rush of concern, Agron guided him over to their near bed. Lack of complaint regarding bedrest revealed his man was seriously suffering by now. Gently, he helped the Syrian to lie down, wrapped him into thick layers of various blankets.

“Try to sleep,” Agron whispered softly, lovingly running a hand through Nasir’s hair. Exhausted, feverish eyes met his. The sight caused his heart to ache. He didn’t say more, only leaned in to place a quick kiss against his man’s hot forehead.

In silence, he sat and watched as Nasir closed his eyes, no longer pretending he was feeling alright. Within the heap of blankets, unnaturally pale and sweaty, he looked even shorter, even more petite.

“Sickness will pass soon and shall leave you happy and well again, training to fight Roman shits like true warrior,” he whispered softly before he got up. 

Despite his usual belief, he sent a silent prayer to the gods, wishing that his beloved shall feel better soon. He would do whatever he could to speed up the process.


	8. …to Fight, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: …to Fight, Part 2  
> Summary: Agron always protects Nasir. It’s time to take turns.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,655  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author’s note: And…there’ll be another part. :)

He didn’t allow himself more than a mild slumber, some parts of his mind still on alert. Almost forgotten were the days when Nasir had claimed he was no soldier. Now there was no way to deny a warrior’s heart, beating strong in his chest. Said warrior had found a treasure, more precious than anything he had ever owned, and was willing to risk whatever was required to keep said treasure safe.

Once again, like so many times during the night, Nasir was startled awake. Instinctively, his eyes darted to the sleeping form of the man in his arms, partly resting on top of him. Exhaustion had allowed Agron to find much needed sleep, yet now that he had rested for a couple of hours, nightmares seemed to push their way into his bruised mind.

With growing concern, Nasir watched as his beloved became restless, eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids. Just watching movements of battered body made him ache in pain as well. Tightening one arm around his man, Nasir ran a hand through Agron’s hair, fingers brushing over his cheek in a loving gesture.

“Shh. You’re safe. Nightmares have sneaked into mind, returning memories of harmful experience from past,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. Demons in dreams shall back off in fear of loving protection.”

He continued to talk in a low, soft voice, all the while soothingly caressing hair, cheeks, shoulders, back and arms. After what felt like eternity, his voice seemed to get through to Agron, even though he didn’t wake up. He settled down again, seemed less frightened, less hurting. Once more, Nasir tightened his arms around the taller form of his partner. Tears sprung to his eyes as a rough rush of pain and guilt hit him.

“Apologies,” he whispered, placing loving kisses onto his man’s forehead, cheeks, nose and lips. “Apologies. If behaviour ever caused doubt that heart belongs to you alone, regret will forever haunt me. Never was it my intention…”

“I know,” a muffled voice interrupted.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” Agron answered quietly, keeping eyes shut. “Neither are you to blame for wish to leave you behind.” He paused. “Seeing you in company of Cilician sparked jealousy and worry…”

“Intention was never to cause jealousy and worry,” Nasir pleaded. “Interest in him was of innocent nature. He was good man, friendly and loyal, but never would have conquered heart. Ever.”

“I know,” Agron repeated. “Jealousy eased hesitation to make choice, yet wish to fight is to blame. I believed world holds nothing for me outside battlefields.” He paused again, gazing up at his lover with heavy eyelids. “I was fool to believe that.”

“You were.” With tears still streaming down his cheeks, Nasir tried to glare, didn’t manage to be convincing though. “You can’t own man’s heart and leave it behind.” Bending down, he captured his beloved’s lips in a desperate kiss. “Never leave me again. Ever. Love of life is all that’s ever been wanted, and shall not be pulled from my arms again.” His lips brushed over Agron’s again. “Promise.”

“Promise,” he answered, and as the Syrian pulled back, he could see tears glistening in his beloved’s eyes, too. Pain and despair were shared, but a new chance had been given to them. The knowledge gave Nasir another rush of confidence. Agron was his: mind, body and soul. Never again should unspoken words and misunderstandings drift them apart, nor would he settle for the role of the always protected again.

“Sleep some more,” he whispered softly, offering a warm smile as he brushed the back of his fingers over his man’s smooth cheek. “You’ll be watched by me, nightmares shall not dare to find path into mind again.”

Agron offered a nod in response. Another few moments later, and he was asleep again. Nasir’s tears had dried by then. Guilt and worry had been replaced by a somewhat calm feeling. Agron knew, finally knew, that he had always been his heart’s desire, the center of his world. He wouldn’t leave him again: Nasir knew he could trust his beloved’s words. He stayed awake for a little longer until he allowed himself to rest as well.

~~

Had his mood been dominated by concern and pain, Nasir found himself to be almost relaxed the following morning. The sun had barely risen beyond horizon when he was up and busy already. He had spent some more time with watching Agron, holding him close, offering warmth and loving comfort.

Eventually though, he had chosen to get up, knowing that sooner or later, he would reach out, would touch, and most likely wake up the man, who needed sleep so much. The medicus had told him that sleep might not seal open wounds or broken bones, yet it would speed up the healing process. In his case, that seemed to have worked. Maybe rest would have a similar effect on his beloved.

Quietly, he made his way through their tent, wondering if he should prepare anything for breakfast. A short flash of pain hit him as his eyes darted to Agron’s hands. Lying on his stomach, he had placed one of them on the pillow, right next to his face. Clean bandages were wrapped around it, yet he could see even from the distance that blood was starting to shine through again.

The Romans had made sure he wouldn’t be able to hold a sword again, at least for a while. They had also messed with his ability to hold any other items. How was he supposed to eat by himself? The thought made Nasir shiver. Convincing Agron that an injured, broken man wasn’t weak was one story. Convincing him that it was alright to accept help with daily activities like shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth was a whole different one.

With a shake of his head, Nasir pushed those thoughts aside again. They would find a way. Somehow, they would. The gods had reunited them. He would be strong for the both of them, and find a way to handle this challenge, no matter how many times Agron would possibly lose his temper or be ashamed of himself. Love could provide endless patience, after all.

Eventually, he decided not to cook but instead brew a drink that would warm their stomachs, and cut some bread. He worked in peaceful silence for a while, gratefully listening to the steady sound of his partner’s breathing. After the numbing, heart-wrenching pain, experienced during the past couple of days, he would almost say he was happy.

Peace was interrupted by an all too familiar voice outside their tent then, calling his name. Feeling disturbed by an intruder whom he knew had only best intentions, Nasir tensed, clenched hands into fists for the split of a moment before he got up. With a quick glance at a sleeping Agron, he crossed the distance between himself and the curtains that served as their home’s door.

“Gannicus,” he stated. “Of which purpose is your visit?”

“Spartacus asks of which condition Agron is today,” the former gladiator answered.

Narrowing his eyes, Nasir asked, “If Spartacus wishes information, why wouldn’t he show presence himself?”

“Spartacus intends to pay visit as sun rises higher,” Gannicus informed him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Plan may be of good intentions, but will not benefit to healing process, I’m afraid,” Nasir stated, feeling another strong rush of protectiveness. Blocking the entrance of their tent with his body, he added, “I wish Agron to rest.”

With a mild smirk, Gannicus tilted his head to the side and answered, “Visit by caring friends would not be of benefit for Agron, you believe?”

“Caring friend is also living reminder of blood and battles,” Nasir stated, straightening himself. “I would not want him to think of nightmare in times of healing. Pleasing thoughts are meant to fill mind.”

Gannicus studied him in silence for a moment, eyebrows raised. Stepping up against other rebels wasn’t a problem for Nasir, never had been. On more than one occasion, he had even confronted Lugo, who could sweep him off his feet with a flick of his wrist. Now that he found himself protecting Agron, his determination had increased to unknown height. Even an entire army wouldn’t be able to get past him at the moment, weapons drawn or not.

Eventually, Gannicus nodded. “Spartacus will receive notice,” he said, with a nod turning around and leaving in the direction he had come from. A sigh of relief escaped him as he let go of the curtains and headed back inside.

“Am I hostage to my man now?” the tired yet amused voice of Agron wanted to know. He smiled up at him sleepily, shifting slightly beneath the blankets he was wrapped in. His skin was still pale, creating a sharp contrast to the bruises that darkened on his face. Said bruises were a painful reminder of the harm that had been done to his beloved.

“No hostage you are, free man.” Nasir stepped closer, knelt down at the side of the bed. “Yet intruders will be kept away. I wish you to rest and heal.” Reaching out, he caressed his lover’s cheek. “Your well-being is in my hands now. Protection will be offered so memories of pain and torture shall pass soon, along with bruises and…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes darted towards his man’s bandaged hands. “All wounds shall heal,” he added quietly. Taking one of the weak hands into his, he placed a loving kiss to the bandage. Even those wounds would close eventually. Whether or not his beloved would regain the ability to use his hands was another story, but at the moment, he couldn’t have cared less.

Looking up, Nasir found Agron gazing back at him, with an expression that said more than thousands of words. Roles were reserved for once: a tough challenge, but not an impossible one.


	9. Hold Me Close, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Hold Me Close, Part 2  
> Summary: Nasir is unwell while Agron is more than willing to come to aid.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,987  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Agron had hoped that a good slumber would ease Nasir’s indisposition. After a couple of hours though, he found his beloved in a worse condition than before. Rough, dry coughs shook an exhausted, sweating body. The Syrian was shivering violently, despite the thick layers of fabric wrapped around his form.

To the German, the sight was close to unbearable. Almost since the moment he had laid eyes on his little man, he had tried everything possible to keep his lover safe. No harm was supposed to threaten him, and even though Nasir had learnt to fight quite well by now, Agron wouldn’t miss a chance to shield him from potential enemies, if he could.

But how could he have gotten prepared for an invisible attacker, taking down his beloved in such a cruel way? The former gladiator felt helpless, and could hardly bear it. The love of his life deserved to feel well, should be walking around with this beautiful smile, enjoying his freedom.

Instead, he was trapped in bed now, fighting against whichever infection he had caught, and he couldn’t do much more but watch. Restless and nervous, he paced from one end of the tent to the other, back to the bed and then over to the near table, wondering what he could do to offer at least a little bit of support.

“No, wait!” he warned as he turned his attention back to the bed once again. With long steps, he closed the distance and knelt besides the heap of blankets and pillows. Weakly, Nasir tried to wiggle his way out beneath them. A half-hearted groan voiced his dismay as he failed at doing more than pushing the fabric aside a little.

“Don’t free body of much needed warmth by blankets,” Agron said softly, rearranging the thick layers. His heart ached at the look he received in response. So badly, he wanted to fight this battle for his beloved, but for once was incapable of interfering.

“Sweat is forming beneath fabric like second wet skin,” he groaned. “I’m freezing, yet sun itself seems to rage inside me. Make it stop!” His body shook with another round of coughs, exhausting him all the more.

“I wish I could offer relief,” Agron answered quietly, running a hand through sweaty hair. “Blankets aren’t cause of sweat and heat though, as fever is to blame. You shall not get rid of them as you’ll shiver like naked man in snowy storm.” Bending down, he placed a loving kiss onto his beloved’s forehead. “Please try to sleep some more. Restful hours shall mean soon recovery.”

Nasir didn’t argue, didn’t try to fight back, and most likely wouldn’t have been able to in the first place. Agron remained by his side until laboured breathing slowly turned even again. The aching deep within him increased with every moment spent with watching the struggling man in his bed. Helplessness had gotten to a point where he feared he might lose his mind.

“Agron?”

Naevia’s soft voice interrupted his train of worried thoughts. Spinning around, Agron stared up at the young woman, standing near the curtain-covered entrance of his tent. His mind had drifted off so far that he hadn’t even noticed her presence until she had made herself known.

“Apologies for disturbing,” she said, her voice low and soft. He could see concern in her eyes as well, yet it wasn’t even close to the maniac fear that was certainly blazing in his. “It’s not my intention to underestimate a man’s medical skills, yet may I assume healing is not taught to gladiators at ludus. Such skills are expected to be among slaves’ knowledges though. I come to offer aid, if needed.”

In this particular moment, Agron would have liked to pull her into a tight embrace, no matter the consequences. Gratitude flooded through him in warm, comforting waves. “Your aid would be well received,” he sighed, nodding to emphasize his words.

Naevia smiled warmly. “How is he holding up?” She stepped closer, kneeling by Agron’s side.

“Cold and heat seem to battle for dominance within him.” He sighed again. “His skin still feels like coal, roasting in fire.”

Reaching out, Naevia placed a small hand across Nasir’s forehead. She nodded. “Fever scares you naturally, but is it of useful purpose. He needs heat for battle against infection. We must wait, allow body much needed time to heal on its own. Should temperature reach dangerous height, I know how to brew medicine of a kind that offers aid to sick body.”

Agron nodded slowly, barely able to hide his dismay. Naevia knew better, but accepting that he was supposed to wait and watch was a challenge he hated to face. He remained by Nasir’s side for a while longer, watching the man sleep while Naevia quietly started to prepare whatever kind of medicine might be useful. She made him join in and offer help eventually, easing his helplessness at least a bit. 

Somewhere along the line, the tall form of Crixus pushed itself passed the curtained entrance in search for his woman. Agron felt himself tense up on instinct, but the eyes that met his weren’t filled with the usual dislike that had been part of their relationship almost from the day they had met for the first time. Instead, there was something else, and to Agron’s own surprise, it made the man welcome in his tent.

“Are you in need of anything I can fetch for you?” he asked his woman.

With a slightly widened smile, Naevia answered, “Water is always rare, so is enough wood to keep fire alive.” She placed a loving kiss on her man’s cheek, who left with a nod.

Agron, having watched the brief exchange, raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Am I mistaken or is Crixus himself offering aid, despite my presence?”

Naevia rolled her eyes. “You and Crixus are alike more as you will ever admit to yourself. Both so stubborn and hot-tempered, yet so loving and loyal. Hands slay Romans with ease, yet offer tender touches of sweetest kind when used on loved ones. Crixus knows heart’s pain when beloved is unwell, and even if words of admittance won’t ever pass his lips, he’s willing to offer aid for anyone’s lover in distress. As you would nowadays, if I may assume so.”

Agron couldn’t deny that. Had he once believed in the greater good and refused to save Naevia, he would make a different choice now. He understood Crixus’s undying urge to protect his woman. Nasir’s well-being and safety were his highest priority as well.

He didn’t know if Naevia’s presence or Crixus’s understanding was responsible, but all three of them managed to work in peace as they took care of the Syrian, struggling more with every passing hour. Agron’s concern returned in spurts during this time, mostly eased by Naevia’s comforting words.

Until Nasir hoarse voice echoed through the tent. Agron returned to his side within the split of a second, surroundings forgotten as soon as he returned to kneeling beside the makeshift bed.

“Nasir?” he asked softly, trying to keep all emotions out of his voice to prevent it from shaking. “Have you come out slumber?”

But Nasir didn’t answer. With his eyes still closed, he tensed and twisted, sighing and whimpering in what sounded like utter fear and discomfort. Agron could feel panic forming in the depth of his chest.

“What troubles your mind, love?” he whispered. “Is pain unsettling you?”

Another whimper, followed by a frightened, “No. Please…” was his answer. A sob escaped Nasir as he struggled against the thick blankets that kept him trapped.

“Agron,” Naevia’s voice said somewhere behind him, sounding like she had repeated his name for a couple of times already. “He’s dreaming. Feverish dreams are common.”

To Agron, what Nasir was going through had nothing to do with ordinary dreams though. Rough nightmares had taken hold of his mind, causing fear to increase in a scary pace.

“Please…” he whimpered, growing tense beneath the blankets. “Apologies...dominus, I didn’t mean…” His voice trailed off in another sob. The sight broke Agron’s heart, shattered it into pieces. Nasir had shared a lot of stories with him, and even without those, he would have been able to imagine that life as a body slave would haunt one for a long time. That painful memories would hurt him now, while already struggling with fever and coughs, seemed all the more cruel.

“Don’t you fear old dominus, he’s not of this world anymore,” Agron whispered soothingly, no longer caring for the emotions that shone through in his voice. Tears started to fog his view as he stroked his little man’s hair, over and over again in the most loving of gestures. “No enemy shall ever hurt you, as long as I can shield you from all harm. Please don’t be scared. I’m by your side. You’re safe, love. You’re safe and sound, with me right by your side.”

“Agron?” Nasir whimpered, blinding reaching for him with a weak, feverish hand. “Agron...don’t go. Please…”

“Promise. Never again will you face fear and danger on your own.” No longer bearing the obvious display of fear, Agron pulled his beloved closer. Smaller hands grabbed what they could reach as Nasir tried to press himself against him, seeking protection. It was a gesture, so desperate, that Agron got almost overwhelmed by a rush of rage, directed towards those that had made the Syrian’s past a nightmare. Determined as ever, he wanted to make sure that mostly happy moments would lie ahead for the young man, with him by his side. Every person who dared to touch him, dared to cause harm in any way, would pay a hard price for that.

A strong hand on his shoulder startled Agron, reminding him of his companions. He looked up to meet Crixus’s eyes. “Naevia believes medicine will ease feverish dreams,” he said, offering a mug, filled with steaming liquid, to him. After a moment of hesitation, he added, “Nightmares come with fevers, but shall pass soon enough. No lingering damage should be done to bruised soul, at least not more than already exists.”

Once more surprised by the Gaul’s words but too caught in his concern to really care, Agron offered a nod and took the mug. Carefully, he rearranged Nasir in his arms. In result, the man’s eyes fluttered open, just enough to gaze up at him with glazed eyes. He was stunned by the wave of relief that washed over the Syrian’s face as he recognized him.

“You’re with me,” he whispered.

“Always will be.” Smiling softly in an attempt to overplay his teary expression, he lifted the mug. He brought it to Nasir’s lips, who roughly pulled his face away.

“It’s fine,” Agron assured him. “Medicine of Naevia’s brewing will ease fever and nightmares. Have faith. I would never hurt you.”

This last sentence seemed to convince him. Reluctantly, Nasir drank until the last droplet went past his lips. Satisfied and dearly hoping that Naevia was right, Agron helped him to lie down again. As he moved to get up though, a weak hand on his arm indicated him to stay.

“Don’t go,” the Syrian whispered. “Please...hold me. Keep nightmares away.”

It was the first time that Nasir asked for support so openly. Unable to deny such a wish, Agron nodded. With a quick glance towards the other couple, seated at the table, he slid beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around his beloved. Nasir offered a tired smile, snuggling even closer. He was seeking what he never had to ask for, and Agron was more than willing to offer it. Keeping his attention focused on his little man, he ran a soothing hand up and down his back. Concern eased as he realised that despite lack of medical knowledge, there was still a lot he had to offer.


	10. ...to Fight, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: …to Fight, Part 3  
> Summary: Agron always protects Nasir. It’s time to take turns.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,762  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Shortly after Agron’s return, Nasir had woken many mornings in fear he had experienced just a dream, too beautiful to be true. The scary feeling didn’t last longer than a couple of moments though, until he would set eyes upon said man, lying next to him, most of the time still deep asleep. With relief flooding through him a most welcome wave that warmed his heart, he would allow himself a moment to watch his beloved, lazily run a hand through the short hair until his man would wake up.

After the night they had exchanged apologies, the past hadn’t come up again. Agron understood that he had never had any reasons to doubt Nasir, how unnecessary his jealousy had been. Meanwhile, Nasir knew that his beloved would never turn his back on him ever again. In fact, so it seemed, their connection was stronger than ever, and so was their love.

“Spartacus asked rebels to gather outside. I stand suspicious he is to share wishes for future strategy,” Nasir said as he cleaned the table that had been used for a quick breakfast. The thought of war to continue after far too few weeks of resting unsettled him. If it was up to him, more weeks, even months, would be needed. Turning around, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s cause of this smile?”

Agron, obviously having watched him for a while with said smile, answered, “You’ve caused it, love. Since the day I considered you no longer to be threat to Spartacus, highest priority was keeping all harm and trouble out of your path. While I always believed in you and saw potential of great warrior behind beautiful face, I never imagined that roles would reserve one day.”

Nasir offered a warm smile in response. “We’ve never been more equal,” he said softly.

“Are we though?” he asked, his features tensing up again. “I might have regained ability to walk on my own, feed myself, but holding sword to fight I’m still incapable of.”

“Strong man is more than his ability to hold sword and swing fists,” Nasir assured him. Walking over to his lover, he knelt in front of him. Their eyes locked for a moment before the Syrian allowed his to wander. His hands joined in. Feather-lightly, he brushed his fingers up a still bruised chest, then down his man’s muscular arms. Gently, he took Agron’s hands into his, brushing his thumbs over the bandages. The wounds beneath had started to heal, but still needed protection to prevent them from opening again. Bending down, he placed loving kisses into the palms, allowing his lips to linger for a moment.

“You’re more than pair of strong hands,” he whispered, meeting Agron’s eyes again. What he found in them proved his words had hit home. He had touched his beloved’s heart, and knew that at least when it came to him, he had wiped all doubts of failure out of his man’s mind again.

“Come,” he said then.

Along with the other rebels, they gathered near the fireplace that offered needed warmth at night and day. A lot of their warriors still looked battered, and the number of those that didn’t seem willing to face yet another battle was larger than Nasir had expected. Still they waited patiently until Spartacus stood before them, directing words to men, women and children. He spoke of those that had returned, those that had been lost. He spoke of the cause and what lay ahead.

“Rome is trembling before us,” he said, in that deep, strong voice that found its way into the mind of every single of his listeners. “Shall we continue what Crixus started.”

Spartacus’s words had been expected, yet they made Nasir tense instantly. His eyes darted to Agron, but what he saw caused his tension to increase. He could see them again: the sparks in his love’s eyes, the wish to get revenge, the urge to keep fighting. If asked, he would run off to the field of battle again. No doubt.

“No,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “No!”

When several pairs of eyes, including Spartacus’s, turned to him, Nasir realised he had spoken louder than intended. Their leader asked if he wanted to share his thoughts with them, and for a moment, he hesitated. What was there to say that could bring his point across? Spartacus had the power to lead whole armies into battle for his cause. How could he, a former body slave, stand up and talk back?

Then, he felt another pair of eyes resting on him. He could almost physically feel Agron’s gaze. Said feeling eventually made the choice an easy one. With a new rush of determination filling his chest, he got up.

“I refuse to agree that we shall stride into battle once again,” he began. His heart was pounding in his chest, sweat was breaking out on his hands and forehead, but he kept going. “How many men have fallen to Roman blades? How many have been badly injured? How many loved ones do we intend to lose until admittance is made that making Rome fall is hopeless cause?”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Now, he could also feel Naevia’s eyes, almost burning into him. But he didn’t allow her to get to him. His highest priority was not her will. “Crixus, a brave man, stood against Rome’s legions and made them tremble with fear. Yet even brave, strong Crixus could not defeat them for good. How many more times do we intend to march into battle, facing certain death? I hear those saying Crixus shouldn’t have fallen for nothing, and he didn’t. He showed Roman shit that even the mightiest can’t fuck with us, that freedom bears strong-willed warriors that are dangerous and deadly weapon to those clinging to old standards. Crixus fought for noble cause, yet even he lacked number of fighting men. Now look at decimated army! How shall fewer men win cause that was lost by bigger number of warriors? I’m not willing to face certain death for that, neither shall anyone dear to my heart. Once, Spartacus, it was said you wanted to liberate those that lived under brutal hand of dominus. That every single life has its worth. Now look at all these men, women and children. Freedom is within our reach. I will not accept that chance is taken from us again to fight battle we cannot win!”

His mouth had run dry by the time Nasir finished his speech. All eyes were still focused on him. He could see surprise in some, agreement in others. To his utter surprise, barely anyone gave him a look that said he was crazy, or wrong. Had he spoken out what so many thought but no one dared to voice?

Hesitantly, but still determined as his thoughts briefly went to the man by his side, he looked up at Spartacus. The former gladiator gazed back in a calm, almost curious way.

“You’re free man, Nasir,” he said eventually. “Your suggestions will be heard if you intend to share with us.”

Biting his bottom lip, the Syrian considered the offer for a moment. He knew exactly what he wanted. He had come far, had been so honest in front all those former slaves. There was nothing that could hold him back now.

“I suggest to mind most important cause. That would be freedom,” he said, forcing his voice to sound steady and determined. “I see no one among us who’s fleeing from Rome’s oppressing hands. We’re claiming what is ours with turning to freedom and going past the Alps. Freedom is all we ever desired. For how much longer do we want to seek revenge until we can live happy and peaceful life by the side of those we love? Rome trembled in front of great Spartacus and his rebels. Slaves have been taken from them, liberated against Roman shit’s wish. Isn’t that worth enough to be considered win?”

Nasir held Spartacus’s gaze, nervousness and hesitation having vanished completely. Now that he had given his thoughts a voice, he was even more convinced that he had made the right choice. The rebel leader looked back with an indefinable expression. A barely visible nod ended the silence that had fallen upon the camp.

“Your wish has been heard,” he said. “Who among us shares belief with Nasir?”

The following moments passed like a surreal dream. Nasir witnessed how more and more rebels confessed their wish to live in freedom, once and for all. Eventually, almost everyone fell in, and Spartacus nodded again.

“So be it.”

Three little words. Nasir was barely aware of the cheers and exclaims of relief. With shaky legs, he sank back to the ground. Not only had he stood up for what he believed in again, he had succeeded with voicing his wishes as well.

Was it possible that a nightmare had ended? Did he no longer have to fear that what he loved the most could be stolen from him? The touch of a gentle hand upon his shoulder startled him back to the present. As he lifted his gaze, his eyes met Agron’s. For a brief moment, he considered his beloved to be angry: after all, he had seen the sparks of rage in his eyes, the wish to fight. But, to his utter surprise, he found nothing else but warmth in them now.

“Never before have I been so proud of you,” Agron said, his voice filled with love and admiration.

“But wasn’t vengeance what you desired, after what has been done to you?”

He shook his head. “I’m tired. Look at me. How shall I have possibly gotten revenge, with weak hands and still healing wounds? As you spoke wise words, heart realised that all it truly desires is peace. And home. Those can only be found by side of the one I love more than anything world has to offer.” Leaning in, he placed a loving kiss upon his lover’s cheek. “Truly proud I am of little man who’s grown to be strong and free.”

The words touched Nasir in a way he had never dared to imagine. With a warm smile, he captured his beloved’s cheek and kissed him. The way Agron kissed him back said more than words. Indeed, he was proud. Battles had been their home once, but their bond had proven that there was more to the world. Love was worth fighting for more than revenge and the chance to win.


	11. Hold Me Close, Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strength: Hold Me Close, Part 3  
> Summary: Nasir is unwell while Agron is more than willing to come to aid.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 1,258  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

The tent was enjoyably quiet, dimly lit by a few candles that offered just enough light so one wouldn’t trip over their own feet. Something in the back of Crixus’s mind was still laughing at him because of his choice to offer aid to the person he had loathed for so long. Of course Naevia was to blame for said decision. She could ask for everything and he would happily oblige.

Quietly like a shadow, Crixus moved over to the near table and settled down in one of the old chairs. Naevia, his beloved woman, cared deeply for the Syrian, who had risked his life to save hers. Liking Nasir seemed to include liking Agron as well. So Naevia hadn’t wasted time to come to their aid as it had been needed.

Reluctantly, Crixus had eventually come to offer a helping hand as well. Naevia had instructed him on what to do, and to his own surprise, he hadn’t minded the presence of the German as much as he had expected.

Now, more than a day later, he was alone with those two men, having send Naevia to their own tent for some much needed rest.

And once again, he found himself surprised with own behaviour. He felt calm, almost relaxed as he sat and watched the pair before him. Crixus had disliked the German the moment he had sided with Spartacus. Even though they had eventually fought for the same cause and he had felt sorry for the gladiator as his brother had fallen victim to Roman sword, the gods had decided to rip apart the slowly forming bond of brotherhood between them.

Mentally, Crixus shook his head at the man before him. Agron had lied about Naevia, had firmly refused to join in on her rescue. The woman herself had to explain with details and patience what had motivated the German to make such a choice, but it hadn’t changed Crixus’s feelings towards the other man.

Until Spartacus had forced them to get over it. By now, even though he would never admit it, not even to Naevia, he couldn’t deny that his beloved wasn’t so wrong with stating that the two former gladiators had a lot in common. Cherishing those that owned their hearts was the most obvious one.

It was also the main reason why Crixus found himself sitting in this tent again, watching over those two in case helping hands would be needed once more. So far, that didn’t seem to be the case though. He watched a sleepy Agron, sitting by his lover’s side, with heavy eyes forcing himself to stay awake. Crixus opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t get to it as another movement caught his attention. Startled out of his exhausted constitution, Agron straightened himself and inched closer.

“Nasir?” he whispered, voice warm and soft as he spoke. “Are you awakening again?”

The Syrian’s eyes fluttered open. With a tired smile, he gazed up at the man hovering above him. Even from his location at the table, Crixus could make out that the man’s eyes no longer held a feverish glance to them. Pale skin and reddish cheeks revealed he wasn’t well yet either, though.

“Agron,” he said quietly, sounding rough after various fits of coughing throughout night and day. “Still I find you by my side.”

“As you always will.” A relieved smile lit the German’s face. So much warmth and loving affection radiated from his eyes that Crixus mentally rolled his eyes. He could almost see Naevia in front of him, teasingly informing her beloved that he couldn’t deny he liked his former enemy a little better with every passing moment.

“How are you feeling?” Agron asked then, gently caressing his beloved’s cheeks. “Skin is still heated with high temperature, but no longer you seem to compete with sun itself.”

Still with a warm smile of his own, Nasir lifted a hand and brushed heated fingertips along his lover's jawline. “You look horrible.”

“Gratitude.” Agron cocked an eyebrow in response.

A mild chuckle escaped the Syrian. “No.” His thumb brushed over the dark shadows, having started to form below his man's eyes. “How many times has sun risen since you've found slumber?”

“Sleep isn't desired so long as fever and cough are shaking beloved's body,” he answered.

The look the German received in response made Crixus bite his bottom lip to suppress a chuckle. A matching look he had seen upon Naevia's face on many occasions, especially when he refused to get much needed rest as well.

“Who are you to demand rest from me, yet your body is worked into exhaustion?” Nasir hissed.

“None of that should worry you,” Agron said. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss upon his man's forehead. “Neither am I one to suffer fever, nor is rest needed. Sleep won't come upon me as long as mind is filled with concerns regarding lover's constitution.”

Nasir rolled his eyes. Crixus couldn't resist a grin at the bickering before him. It disappeared as soon as brown eyes turned their attention to him, silently demanding support on the matter.

“I'm siding with Agron,” he admitted, glaring at the taller man's surprised look before he added, “yet do I fear of Naevia's rage shall I offer wrong advice. On her behalf, I stand agreeing with Nasir. Rest is needed after days lacking any of it.” He forced himself to keep a straight face as Agron glared daggers at him.

“Fucking Gaul,” he growled.

“Fucking German,” was the response, not without the hint of a grin to accompany it.

“Fucking gladiators,” the Syrian complained. “Take words of loving affection elsewhere. For now, I demand Agron to catch some sleep, otherwise I'll refuse to have it myself.” Once more caressing his lover's face, he added, “No concern is needed on my behalf, love. Temperature might still level above average, but am I no longer shaken by chills and drowning in sweat.”

“Or frightened by feverish dreams?” Agron couldn't help but add.

Nasir's cheeks flushed softly, yet his words harboured no embarrassment. “Effort to keep me well and safe is gratefully received. But...”

“Both of you will be watched as you sleep,” Crixus interrupted, knowing that those two could keep up an argument for hours if allowed to continue.

“You expect me to trust shit eating Gaul to stand guard?” Agron narrowed his eyes in detest.

Crixus responded with a grin. “You couldn't ask for a better one, brother.” He held the German's gaze in silent communication. No longer would he notice the old, familiar sharpness in the other man's voice as he cursed him. Both knew they could trust each other blindly by now and eventually, Agron agreed with a barely visible nod.

“Gratitude,” Nasir said before turning his attention back to his lover. His fingers firmly wrapped around the German's wrist and urged him to lie down. 

No longer arguing back, Agron did like he was told. One arm securely wrapped around his beloved, he settled down and rested his head on his man's shoulder. With a satisfied smile, Nasir leaned in to place a loving kiss upon his lover's hair, holding him close in return. Crixus watched the couple, mildly shaking his head at them. Of course he would never admit he was touched by the open affection the former slave and the former gladiator showed for each other. Maybe, just maybe, Naevia wasn't so wrong after all.


	12. Gentle Touches of a Healing Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Gentle Touches of Healing Kind  
> Summary: Nothing else provides more intimacy and cure than gentle touches of loving hands.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: R  
> Word Count: 2,629  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author’s note: This is a little oneshot that wanted to be written (I’m on holidays at the moment). Maybe I’ll add another part to this, we’ll see.

He stood in silence, slightly leaning on his spear for support as he gazed ahead, seemingly blankly and at nothing in particular. Outer appearance betrayed curious eyes though, as Nasir’s attention was wholly focused on the man a couple of feet away.

As a body slave, Nasir had learnt not to harbour any feelings, or even thoughts of his own, as neither the former nor the latter were desired by any dominus of Rome. Body slaves existed purely to please, to satisfy masters’ needs. Body slaves were nothing more than objects to those that claimed to own them. Objects would be used and tossed aside if having served their purpose. Being free of feelings was the only way to survive such treatment for the long run.

Since Spartacus had liberated him, Nasir, going by the name given to him by his parents again, slowly but steadily regained the ability to feel. A lot of those feelings had been sparked by a former gladiator. For the first time, he experienced what it was like to crave with desire, to shiver beneath loving touches, to exclaim in utter satisfaction, to feel warm, undying affection towards another person.

With love came pain though. He had learnt that rather quickly. When Agron had parted ways with him to follow Crixus into battle, he had believed an ice-cold hand had ripped his heart right from his chest. Said heart had been shattered into pieces upon Naevia’s return. Agron had asked him to live, to move on in case of no reunion, but no such things would have been possible for him. His devotion belonged to the former gladiator, always would. He couldn’t see himself finding joy in life again.

The Gods, often so cruel to good men, seemed to pity him for once as they gained him his heart’s deepest desire. Agron had been returned to his arms: Nasir still remembered how he had stared in disbelief when his beloved had appeared among all those others that had been traded in exchange for the bastard Tiberius.

How could one be of such enormous luck, he wondered. Eventually, he didn’t bother to pay any further attention to said question. Instead, he stood determined as ever to protect the love of his life, and show him how much he was treasured on every single day.

Reunion with love didn’t erase the chance of pain though. Agron had been returned home, but not after having suffered at the hand of Roman shit. Bruises of all shades covered his body, mainly his face. Deep cuts cleaved their way through already scarred skin, telling stories of lost battle and torture.

But evidence of torture was not to blame for the blank expression in once brightly shining eyes. Nails had been run through formerly strong hands, destroying nerves and muscles in their wake as the proud gladiator had been crucified. Not many could claim to have survived such punishment, yet some wounds would need long to heal, if they ever did.

Pain struck Nasir as he took in the frown upon his lover’s face. While other warriors trained their handle of swords and other weapons through sparring and striking wooden posts that had been set up for them, Agron tried to force his hands into cooperation. Even from the distance, Nasir could see the sweat forming upon his lover’s body, as if he was engaged in hard physical training. For the split of a moment, a smile lit the gladiator’s face as his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword, just to be banished again as his hand couldn’t keep a hold of it.

It was a sight almost unbearable for Nasir, but he knew his feelings couldn’t be compared to those his beloved was struggling with. His old self, so strong and proud, trained to fight, had been destroyed by his worst enemies. Caesar himself had run those nails through his hand, taking away not only his ability to fight but also to take care of himself.

At least for now. Day upon day, Nasir tried to assure his distraught lover that his limited use of hands would only last for so long. Even if he wouldn’t be able to use them fully again, at least he would regain the ability to eat on his own, to clean himself. But which proud fighter would listen to such promises if they depended on another person even for the smallest of tasks? The warrior had lost a huge, important part of himself, felt useless and weak now, and could barely cope with shame.

This time, Nasir wouldn’t back off though. He had allowed Agron to leave him behind once, and had deeply regretted his choice. The moment he had laid eyes upon pale, bruised face, feeling a hand heavily resting on his shoulder for support, he had sworn to himself and the gods above that roles would be equaled, if not reserved. No longer would Agron make decisions for them. Either both would agree, or Nasir would take matters in his own hands, if needed.

His heart ached at the frustrated groan that escaped his beloved as the sword dropped to the ground once more. No longer could he bear such a sight, and started walking almost on instinct.

“Hasn’t enough sweat been drawn from body yet?” he asked softly as he stood by his man’s side. He had adjusted rather quickly to Agron’s mood, being able to handle it much better than the man’s jealousy. Fortunately, that was no longer a topic between them.

“No attempt at decent training has been made yet,” Agron said between gritted teeth.

“Yet I believe aching muscles demand loving attention,” Nasir said, gently wrapping strong fingers around his lover’s arm. At the look Agron cast, he added, “Declining of offer will not be accepted.”

Agron’s eyes narrowed in dismay. “Will food be served to me like to helpless baby?”

“No further discussion upon those matters,” Nasir stated. “If roles reversed, would you like to see me up and about, declining every offer of aid from concerned lover?”

This argument never failed to have the wished effect. Still feeling guilty because of having left his beloved behind, Agron didn’t dare to question the roles in their relationship. No longer was he the caregiver while Nasir settled for being the one to be protect. Never before had determination provided so much strength. No longer was he a little slave boy, in need of strong arms to keep him safe. For so long, Agron had offered protection. The Syrian believed it was fair to take turns for once, no matter how much the gladiator disagreed.

Accepting no further arguments, Nasir tightened his fingers around his beloved’s arm and guided him away from the training field, away from discarded sword and curious eyes, to the privacy of their shared tent. He asked his lover to get out of his clothes and settle down on his stomach as abused muscles, still aching from battle as much as from stubborn mind and training, would receive loving attention. Sweat- and dust-covered skin would be refreshed while being washed, and even though Agron seemed intent to argue, he did like he was told, still too weak to face a real discussion with his equally stubborn man.

He placed a bucket of steaming hot water and soft washing cloths by his side as he knelt next to his beloved. He allowed his eyes to rake over the man’s body, taking in smooth skin, covered with darkening bruises and red lines that were fainting reminders of whips meeting body in torturous gesture.

Nasir’s eyes darted to Agron’s face. Still with a blank expression, he stared ahead, but the Syrian knew better. His lover lay before him, exposing not only skin but also tales of what he had suffered. Step by step, he was opening up, allowing Nasir in. Only he was allowed to see the tall man at his weakest, only he was allowed to offer a helping hand or strong shoulder to cry on.

Wordlessly, Nasir dipped a thick piece of washing cloth into the warm water. Carefully, he brought it to Agron’s shoulder blades. He bent down to place a loving, lingering kiss to the back of the man’s neck, allowing himself to nibble on familiar skin for a moment. It was a simple gesture, yet with so much meaning to it. He was trying to remind his lover that he wasn’t around to help because the gladiator couldn’t take care of himself anymore, but because of nothing else but deepest love.

He brushed the cloth over Agron’s shoulder blades then, all the time adding no pressure to his skin. Feather-light touches were intended to offer relaxation. Muscles would let go on their own. Arousal wasn’t on his mind either: there was more to intimacy than sated needs.

After the shoulder blades were done, Nasir ran the piece of cloth down the length of his love’s spin. This time, the loving gesture drew a reaction from Agron. He shivered slightly: clear evidence that he enjoyed the loving attention. His sides followed next. Nasir paid extra careful attention to the red lines, making sure they stayed clean. A soft smile lit his face as he caught sight of his beloved’s face again.

“Don’t you give in to slumber just yet,” he whispered, brushing his lips over the shell of his man’s ear. Another shiver was his reward. For a moment, unable to resist, he placed a trail of barely existent kisses down the length of his lover’s neck, tongue poking out just enough to tease. He knew Agron was fond of his tongue’s various skills, depending on mood and body part. Most of the time, it served to arouse. This time, he intended to relax, and seemed to succeed more and more.

Eventually, he returned to his main task. The washing cloth was soaked with water again before Nasir took care of his lover’s ass and legs. He read the tales of his man’s body as he responded to the loving ministration. Avoiding heat to form in the pit of the taller man’s belly was impossible, but such a side effect wasn’t entirely unwelcome either.

“Please turn over,” he ordered with a soft whisper. This time, Agron was less reluctant to oblige. Resting on his back now, he fixed his eyes on his lover, watching every of his movements. The blank expression had lifted, was slowly replaced by a far more enjoyable one.

Nasir took care of Agron’s chest next. Gently, he washed every inch he could reach. Carefully, he cleaned deep gashes, slowly healing by now, and faint scratches. He noticed how his lover’s breathing sped up, ever so slightly, but wasn’t unsettled yet.

The Syrian continued, took care of more private areas now. He felt his lover’s cock stir in his hand as he gently took hold of the familiar flesh. He was tempted to stroke it, make it harden, suck it, draw the beloved sounds of pleasure from his man’s lips as he neared his release. But sex would have to wait. No longer was their relationship only focused on satisfying needs. There was something else, something deeper. He wanted the former gladiator to understand that there was so much more about him than just his physical strength and talents. He owned his heart, always had.

Still, he couldn’t resist completely as he bent down and placed the whisper of a kiss to the head of his lover’s cock. Once again, he could feel the body respond, could feel flesh hardening beneath gentle fingers. But before his beloved would reach the point of needing more, he continued his way down the man’s body.

Nasir didn’t lift his gaze until he returned to Agron’s chest, ready to take care of his love’s most sensitive and abused body parts. Only now, he allowed their eyes to meet. What he saw struck him like lightning, touching something deep within his chest. The blankness had disappeared completely. Now all he saw was utter affection, joined by hints of desire. The depth of emotions proved his actions to be successful.

All the while keeping their eyes locked, Nasir took care of muscular arms before his attention turned to the most vulnerable parts. Agron’s hands didn’t need to be washed, but deserved their share of loving attention as well. Bringing one hand to his lips, he placed a soft kiss upon thick bandages. The way his lover’s eyes glazed over with emotions told him that even sex couldn’t have created a more intimate atmosphere between the both of them.

Nasir continued his loving ministration. With slightly parted lips, he kissed every single bruised finger before they brushed over the bandages once again. Another loving kiss was placed to his man’s wrist before the other hand received an equal treatment.

But this time, Agron refused to stay passive. Instead, he brought his hand closer to Nasir’s face, cupped his cheek. Grabbing swords or even a piece of bread was still a challenge, but finer gestures were manageable. In slow motion, he brushed a thumb across Nasir’s still parted lips, receiving an instinctive kiss in response. Despite his best intentions, he couldn’t hold back the tears that sprang to his eyes.

“What troubles your mind?” Agron asked quietly. “No tears should fall. I’m right here. I’ve been returned to you.”

“Yes,” Nasir agreed, voice thick with emotions. “Yet mind tends to remember times of numbing grief. I...I missed you.” A choked chuckle escaped him. “You returned to me bruised and battered, seemingly broken by Rome. But heart’s deepest desire is not to see wounds closed and hands killing Roman bastards again. Much rather I would like to see faith in your abilities restored.” He paused, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “Confession was made to Spartacus that everything has been taken from you. Everything that made you strong, undefeatable gladiator. Yet you fail to see that while you were wounded, you haven’t been destroyed. With patience and determination, both of which I know you’re capable of, ability to fight will return to you. Still, man who holds my heart is more than brave warrior. Strong arms held me during nightmares, loving hands caressed my cheek, lifted my chin. Sweet kisses caused joy, hungry ones would spark lust. List of features you possess is long, yet you fail to see all of those in favour of paying attention to skills upon field of battle.” He paused again. “My deepest wish is for you to see precious man by my side. Love of my life. Not injured soldier.”

Blinking against newly rising tears, Nasir eventually succeeded at clearing his view. He found Agron staring up at him, eyes huge in surprise, speechless by honest words of affection. A rush of joy filled the Syrian’s heart at realisation that finally, after so many failed attempts, his beloved had understood. Lifting himself up, the German brought their faces on eye-level.

“No other shall ever see precious man who conquered your heart,” he whispered quietly, “as such man only finds safety in your arms.”

“So be it,” Nasir promised. Gently capturing his beloved’s face, he pulled Agron into a loving, tender kiss that was eagerly returned.

The sound of laughter and chatting, training and arguing found its way into the tent, but neither of the two men inside paid attention to it. Agron and Nasir had created their own little world which didn’t allow access to anyone but them. Various experiences from the past had left scars upon their souls: some deeper than others. Yet, so it seemed, they stood stronger than ever, having found their very own way of providing whatever the other needed most.


	13. Finding Home, Finding Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Finding Home, Finding Peace  
> Summary: Maybe, just maybe, there was more to the world than fights upon battle fields.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: PG - 13  
> Word Count: 3,697  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

An almost peaceful mood had settled upon the camp. No longer were fear and concern dominating peoples’ minds. Even food and water weren’t as rare as they had once been: there were always enough men willing to go for a hunt in the forest, to look for a near pond or river. Since Rome wasn’t a constant threat in their backs, former slaves seemed to feel almost safe, all the more since they had left the Alps behind.

Seated by one of the fireplaces, Agron allowed himself a moment of letting his eyes wander. It was a sight that stunned him. After weeks and months of being on the run, people seemed to understand slowly but steadily that they were, indeed, free. People with wills and feelings, with dreams and wishes.

It was a sight that warmed his heart. Spartacus’s deepest wish had been gained. Rome might not have fallen, but slaves had been liberated, had regained rights that had been taken from them seemingly an eternity ago.

Rome might not have fallen, but it hadn’t won either, despite contrary beliefs. The city was tumbling, and eventually would shatter into meaningless pieces.

His eyes continued their journey until they fell upon two small children, sitting nearby. The boy lowered his eyes immediately, toying with the tiny dagger in his hands. The girl, maybe a year or two younger than him, stared ahead as if she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. He had seen those two before. Since the end of the last battle, they followed him and Nasir whenever they spotted the couple, like two little shadows.

A hiss of pain escaped him and he dropped the piece of bread he had been holding. A rush of rage filled him, like a burning hot wave, resulting in gritted teeth and a hateful glare. Peaceful mood was erased from mind as his gaze fell to his hands. No bandages were wrapped around them any longer, yet the evidence of crucifiction were still visible, and would be forever. The wounds, left by nails on their way through skin, nerves and muscles, had closed, creating red scars on the back of his hand and in the center of his palm.

Seeing the evidence of what Roman shit had done to him was bad enough, bringing back memories of blinding pain that had coursed through his body as he had been nailed to wood, as he had hung to the cross in merciless heat until Spartacus’s agreement had resulted in his liberation.

Constantly being confronted with the damage that had been done to his hands though was a different story. Every single day, he practiced to hold a sword. His attempts grew more and more successful, yet he was far from being able to fight battles. Even though he wasn’t willing to accept it, he knew that some of the damage would stay for good. He would never be his old self again, despite his hardest attempts.

“May I offer aid?” Laeta’s voice tore through his destructive thoughts. Looking up, Agron prepared to glare at her, words of disapproval upon his lips. But before he got the chance to open his mouth, bread and knife had already been taken from him.

“Don’t you cast that look at me,” she said, shaking her head at him. “No one will see you as weak failure of a soldier. Not after what you’ve done for former slaves. And me.”

Instincts that had been so much part of his personality for so long kicked in. The urge to shoot back insults was strong, but biting his tongue, Agron swallowed the words before they could pass his lips. It was due to Nasir’s stubbornness that he had stopped fighting every offer of help from others’ side. His hand was pulsing with pain and he knew failed attempts at cutting a simple loaf of bread wouldn’t prove his strength to anyone.

They sat in silence for a while, accepting each other’s presence. Agron avoided looking at the red-haired woman, unwilling to cause belief that he was interested in conversation. He learnt quickly that Laeta didn’t need encouragement to start one though.

“Weeks of flight lie behind us,” she said. He could feel her eyes resting upon him as she continued, “Will we possibly be rewarded with peace after all?”

“May those that deserve it enjoy such reward,” Agron stated without looking up.

“Yourself not included, I assume,” Laeta stated. “Despite all you’ve given to make peace and freedom possible.”

“What have I given?” Gritting teeth, Agron snapped around to her. “Spartacus led us into battle. Spartacus liberated slaves. Spartacus saved you. I was by his side, but isn’t it me who deserves reward.”

Laeta shook her head at him. “Such foolish words, spoken by man I believed to be smarter.” She held his gaze despite the heated glare he shot back in response. “Every single one of Spartacus’s rebels deserved life in peace. Yourself included, despite foolish belief.”

“None of my beliefs are foolish,” he hissed back. “What is left of me?”

“Worthless warrior, unable to fight with ruined hands?” Laeta spoke as if having read his mind. “Your beliefs are more than foolish, Agron, and certainly not shared with anyone in this camp.” She paused. “Fortunately gods were wise enough to put equally stubborn and loving man by your side, strong enough to get through walls trapping brave but broken soul.”

Breaking the eye contact again, Laeta returned to cutting bread, the force of her movements revealing her rage. Agron watched her in a mix of confusion and surprise. Very few people apart from Nasir dared to speak up against thoughts born by self hatred. More than once, Agron had felt like a failure. He hadn’t managed to spare Duro from being caught and sold to the ludus. He hadn’t managed to save his life. Now he depended on others even for plain actions like cutting food, and at times, he couldn’t help but look at himself in disgust.

“Have you ever considered that new chance has been given to you?” she asked then, startling him back to the present. At his disbelieving look, she added, “You and Nasir survived for reasons I can see but that seem to be hidden from your eyes.”

“What reasons might that be?” Agron growled, rage rising once again.

Laeta didn’t seem to care. “No longer able to fight upon battle field allows you to move on, find new purpose in life.” She paused again. “Nasir said you believe that nothing lies behind the Alps for you. Yet I see so much you could do with chance given to you. If only you opened eyes, you would see them, too.” Looking up, she met his gaze. “Those two babes over there keep following you.”

Confused by the sudden change of topic, Agron needed a moment to grasp hold of her words’ meaning. Throwing another glance at the boy and girl, he shrugged. “They’ve been following since end of battle. Surely seeking protection as no one else seems willing to take them in.”

Laeta nodded. “Seeking protection, or loving family.”

Once again, Agron felt himself at a loss of words. Women had never been to his taste, especially when jumping topics so easily during conversation. Only when he caught her eyes once more, he managed to understand what she was trying to say.

“You ask us to take the little ones in?” he asked disbelieving. At her smile, he added, “I’m a warrior, my home has always been upon battle field…”

“Story has been heard by many ears,” Laeta interrupted, rolling her eyes at him in impatience. “So men that ever lifted sword to kill will forever stay warriors and see no life outside blood and sweat?” She shook her head at him. “Your lover should stand as example that changes are possible for every man and woman. Former body slave has turned into skilled warrior. Why should former gladiator not find home with family?” She moved closer, determination in her eyes increasing. “You’re still worthy man, even without ability to slay Roman bastards. If not...what will you say to average slave? Men and women who never lifted weapon against enemy, never fought but needed protection instead? Are they not of any worth because they lack fighting skills?”

Her words hit him hard. Agron hadn’t forgotten about discussions he had shared with Spartacus before. Every single human being had their value. Himself included. Such an argument was invalid to bring his point across.

“Plans foresee no peaceful family,” he said stubbornly, unwilling to give in. “Freed slaves will brought to safety, then…”

“Then what?” Laeta interrupted, once more ignoring his frustrated glare. “Will you continue seeking Romans to slay them? Or turn against other enemies?” Her eyes narrowed as she added, “What about Nasir?”

Agron’s confusion returned. “His place is forever by my side.”

Laeta nodded. “So should you not consider wishes of beloved?” At his surprised look, she sighed again. “Of course option that your man might not wish to face battle upon battle hasn’t come to mind yet.”

“He’s a warrior.”

“Yet what matters to him more than anything is you,” she stated firmly. “Look at those hands. Evidence is still there, reminding you of pain suffered upon cross. Not forgotten should be pain Nasir suffered upon belief you might have shared fate with Crixus.”

Closing his eyes, Agron sighed. He hated to admit that the woman’s words held a lot of truth. Nasir had been stronger than ever after his return. Roles seemed to have been reversed as he had offered support, had stood by his lover’s side like an unshakable rock. But who was he to believe that his beloved was craving revenge and battles as much as him? Upon this day, he had never considered his man’s wish for peace, a family and the certainty that the love of his life wouldn’t be taken away from his side again by Roman shit.

“I see stubborn mind is finally accepting other options but its own,” Laeta said satisfied. “Let go of wish to get back into old form. Instead, watch out for other chances life might be offering to you. Chances you haven’t been aware of until being pointed out to you.”

Agron found himself gazing back at the children again. In this particular moment, he understood the red-haired woman was right. There were other options and while he was still in denial, something deep within him had accepted that already. Both children were staring at him as he turned his full attention to them.

“Are you hungry?” he wanted to know. At the boy’s nod, he offered slices of bread to the both of them. The simple gesture seemed to prove his good intentions to the children, as both immediately moved closer. Agron watched in silence as they ate, not missing how their little teeth tore into the bread. It was obvious they hadn’t eaten much, if anything, for a while. For a moment, he felt another rush of rage, wondering why no one had bothered to take care of those two yet. Guilt joined in at realisation that he hadn’t bothered to make said step either.

“What names do you go by?” he asked then. The children exchanged a glance, neither of them answering.

“Do you have none?” Agron wanted to know, eyebrows raising in surprise. At such an age, he assumed someone would have named them already. He tried to remember when they had joined the liberated slaves, but couldn’t place them.

“No names?” he asked again.

The boy shook his head. “Dominus called us ‘boy’ and ‘girl’.”

The words struck him like a blow to the face. He knew Nasir had been a child as well when having been taken from his homelands, but certainly not that young. “Of what purpose have little ones like you been in house of dominus?”

“Keeping villa clean,” the boy said as if his answer should have been obvious. A barely audible sigh of relief escaped Agron at those words. Lucky children hadn’t fallen into hands of a dominus with worse intentions.

His attention turned to the little girl then. Still chewing on her piece of bread, she stared up at him in silence. “Doesn’t she speak?” he wanted to know.

The boy shrugged. “She’s shy. Dominus often yelled at her when she dropped things. He hated seeing precious vases broken.” A sudden grin lit his face as he added, “Once, one was broken on purpose by me.”

Agron nodded slowly, unable to resist a smirk of his own. He studied the children in silence once more, mentally shaking his head at himself. A few exchanged words, and he felt responsible for them already. No surprise people had ignored them: how could one turn their back on two little ones after paying more than necessary attention to them?

“Why are you following us?” he decided to ask then.

The boy blushed at the question. “You are heroes. Heroes will keep us safe.”

“Heroes?” Agron’s eyes widened in surprise, just to narrow again in annoyance as he caught the suppressed chuckle of Laeta behind his back. He wanted to shoot a comment at her, but forgot his intention as both children yawned in union.

“Haven’t you allowed slumber to give minds much needed rest?” he wanted to know.

The boy shook his head. “Bedrolls were stolen.”

At this point, Agron felt the strong urge to curse Laeta. She had talked him into this, with a more poisonous tongue than any woman or man he had ever met. Even Spartacus’s skills of tricking him into doing what the rebel leader had wanted him to take care of hadn’t come close to matching hers.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I know place that allows safety for some rest.” Getting up, he turned to glare at the grinning woman before he nodded his head towards his and Nasir’s tent. His heart warmed as both children stared up at him with huge, hopeful eyes.

~~~~

Still in disbelief, Agron leaned against the table that served for daily meals, watching the sleeping forms of two nameless little children. His mind still refused to accept that he had agreed to take them in. Laeta had planned this, so he believed. There was no other explanation. He should have known better but to trust the former Roman.

So lost in his thoughts, he missed sounds of arrival as Nasir joined him in their tent. The Syrian raised his eyebrows in confusion at the lack of reaction shown by his lover, before his eyes wander to what the other man was staring at.

“Who are they?” he asked surprised, stepping closer.

“Children,” Agron stated without lifting his gaze.

Nasir rolled his eyes. “Gratitude for clarification. What are they doing here?”

“Blame is all on Laeta,” Agron answered, finally tearing his eyes away from the sleeping children. As his eyes met Nasir’s, he explained, “Treacherous woman made me talk to them. Children have neither home nor place for sleep. Even names aren’t among their possessions.”

Nasir looked like he could barely contain his laughter. “So you decided to offer them shelter?”

Agron made an uncomfortable face. “Matters would have been discussed with you upon return.”

A chuckle escaped his beloved. “Agron, I don’t mind.” He laughed even more at the suspicious glance he received in return.

“Plan was born by yours and Laeta’s combined minds!” he stated in disbelief.

Once again, he was rewarded with an eyeroll. “No. Plan was created by Roman woman alone. Yet I fail to see mistakes in plan that might cause such reluctance.”

Staring back at his man, Agron found himself at a loss of words again. Was there a chance that Laeta was right? Nasir was a warrior, skilled and strong. Agron watched every fight of his with increasing pride. He had never bothered to wonder if his beloved might harbour wishes for a future that didn’t include shedding blood upon fields of battle. Revenge and thirst for Roman blood had dominated his mind for so long. Maybe his mind was clouded, not allowing him to see the options that lay before him.

“Should we keep them?” he asked before he could change his mind again. “Become family instead of returning to Rome for vengeance?” He paused as Nasir’s eyes met his. “Please share honest thoughts with me.”

The Syrian hesitated. His eyes wandered back to the sleeping children, then met those of his lover again. “Peace and home are all I’m craving for ever since your return,” he admitted. “Barely did I survive belief of having lost you. No longer do I wish to wake upon fear of what day will bring.”

All Agron offered in response was a nod. It was settled then. How could he possibly deny a wish that was brought to him right from the depth of his beloved’s heart?

“They’re in need of names,” he said then.

A smirk lit Nasir’s face as he nodded and answered, “Wouldn’t Duro and Chadara be suitable?” He laughed at the glare he received.

“Quit playing unfair,” Agron growled, wrapping an arm around Nasir’s waist to draw him closer.

The Syrian chuckled. “Never my intention.” His arms wrapped around the German’s neck. The kiss that followed made Agron forget about his anger. He knew Nasir had spoken the truth: no longer did he wish to wake up in fear either. New chances existed for a reason, after all.

~~~~

A thunderstorm disturbed what had started as a peaceful night. Storm had joined in, howling outside tents that offered much needed shelter. Agron woke up with the satisfying thought that the following day would finally be a cooler one. The air would have cleared, the near pond filled up.

His eyes fluttered open. His formerly sleepy mind was startled awake at the sight of a small figure in front of him. He forced down his instinct to strike out in self defence and instead blinked a few times to adjust to the dimmed light.

Still, another couple of moments were required until he recognized the little girl, called Chadara now, standing in front of him with in fear widened eyes, tears streaming down her little face.

“What happened, little one?” he asked softly. “Have nightmares torn you from depth of slumber?”

The little girl shook her head. Another lightning lit up the sky, closely followed by rumbling thunder. Chadara’s entire body shuddered at the sound, a frightened sob escaping her. The sight painfully reminded Agron of Duro, having shared the little girl’s fear even as an adult.

“Storm won’t harm you inside safety of tent,” he assured the child, but his words didn’t have any effect on her. She didn’t move, didn’t stop crying either. The sight caused his heart to ache in sympathy. This time, he didn’t curse Laeta or his beloved though. His own self was producing such feelings, and to his own surprise, he realised he liked them.

“Would you feel safer if you lay here with us?” Agron asked.

“Yes,” was the whispered answer. Her tiny arms wrapped around Agron’s neck as he lifted her up. The small face was buried in his shoulder as she held on to him. The gesture caused a new rush of warmth, wiping away even the last bit of doubts. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally found another purpose in life: one that did not require healed hands, holding a sword. As he turned around, he found himself facing a sleepily smirking Nasir. Glaring at his beloved, he gestured Duro, who had woken up as well by now, to come over. Nasir’s smile widened as the boy happily bounced over and joined his sister in the middle of their larger bedroll.

“I said not to fucking cast that look,” Agron growled at his lover as he settled down at the edge of the bed.

“How can I resist with such a sweet man by my side,” Nasir teased. Leaning in as good as he could, he brushed his lips over the German’s in a loving whisper of a kiss. “Over are days of rage and frustration.”

Agron didn’t answer. He ignored Nasir’s laughter and instead turned his attention back to the small children between them. Both had immediately fallen asleep again. Closing his eyes as well, he sighed, gratefully welcoming the strange feeling of utter happiness that greeted him.

~~~~

The following morning, Agron awoke to enjoyable silence. Only birds announced the rise of sun. A soft breeze was blowing, toying with the curtains that served as an entrance door to their tent. Grateful for such a peaceful morning, Agron opened his eyes, instinctively turning over. With a relieved smile, he found the little children still asleep, obviously not having been disturbed by thunder again.

Nasir, however, had abandoned their shared bed already. Standing at the table, he faced his lover with his back. Getting up as well, Agron quickly closed the distance between them. His smile grew into a grin as his lover instantly leaned back into him when his arms wrapped around the smaller man’s form.

“You abandon loved ones so early?” he whispered into the Syrian’s ear.

Nasir chuckled. “Food needed to be prepared, as hungry family shall awaken soon.” Turning around in his beloved’s arms, he gazed up at the taller man. “I see happiness in your eyes.”

“You aren’t mistaken.” Agron leaned in for a kiss. As they parted again, he added, “Maybe value hasn’t been lost entirely.”

“Not a bit of it has been lost,” Nasir stated with a frown. His expression softened again as he brushed his fingertips up the length of his man’s arms. Gently cupping his cheeks, he said, “Allow yourself to accept safety provided by loved ones finally. Home and peace are worth more than war and vengeance.”

Agron nodded, and for the first time, he agreed with Nasir on the topic. He knew a rocky path still lay before him: old habits wouldn’t disappear so easily. But he had people by his side who were determined as ever to offer aid. Maybe home and peace were indeed what mattered the most after all.


	14. Putting Pieces Back Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Putting Pieces Back Together  
> Summary: Spartacus keeps his promise and leads the rebels into freedom. Meanwhile, Agron and Nasir deal with the aftermaths of war and realise they’ve never been so close.  
> Characters/Pairings: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating/Warnings: R  
> Word Count: 2,171  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.  
> Author’s note: In this story, Spartacus didn’t turn back for the final battle. Instead he heads north with the rebels, leading them into freedom.

A cool breeze blew across the hilly landscape, gently caressing grass and leaves of trees. The rising sun kissed the world awake, drawing long shadows as it rode higher and higher. Hidden in a shallow valley, the camp lay silent as rebels caught a few more hours of much needed sleep after walking for hours the day before.

The wind played with the curtains, serving as a makeshift door to keep curious glances away. It sneaked inside, creeping under rough blankets, teasing exposed skin. Shivering slightly, Nasir slid further under the covers. Nevertheless, the provided warmth couldn’t prevent him from waking up eventually.

His eyes remained closed until his mind caught up, could separate between dream and reality again. Slowly, bit by bit, he allowed himself to awaken from a formerly deep slumber. Night itself had been rather restless, and after day upon day without any sleep at all, his body had craved rest.

Eventually, Nasir’s eyes fluttered open. The tent was dimly lit by the early morning sun, just enough so he could see. He took a deep breath, a mere smile appearing as relief filled his chest. The presence of the other person in the tent could be so clearly felt. Nothing could offer greater comfort.

His smile widened as he rolled over. Agron was still sleeping. A brief sting deep within him was caused by the wish to see soft, relaxed features upon his beloved’s face again. Even while asleep, Agron was frowning, eyes moving behind closed lids as he was constantly bordering yet another nightmare.

Who could blame him? Since the German’s return, not many words had been exchanged between the both of them. Gestures had been more important. One look upon his lover and Nasir knew the Romans had managed to break him, to shatter his self into thousands of pieces. Putting them back together was his responsibility now. The task required attention: he had to figure out what his beloved needed most, not what he believed was right.

And words had never held as much meaning as actions. Agron had been returned to him, and Nasir would hold on to him, as tightly as he could. In relief and surprise, he had realised that the former gladiator had spoken honest words when admitting that he shouldn’t have left in the first place. He was willing to accept aid, even though every fibre of his self was screaming with shame and agony at what he had become.

Nasir knew a lot of painful conversations lay ahead. One day, he would ask Agron what had happened during his captivity. He would learn how the man he loved had been tortured and eventually crucified. Nails had been run through his hands, erasing his chances to participate upon fields of battle again. Damaged nerves and muscles wouldn’t allow him to pick up a sword again.

Not that he needed to do so for a while. Nasir had sent silent gratitudes towards the gods for their mercy as Spartacus had announced that enough blood had been shed. He had promised to liberate those that had been held beneath Rome’s foot for far too long. They would continue to head north, until free lands would welcome them home.

But lack of opportunities couldn’t overshadow painful facts. Carefully not to startle him, Nasir inched closer. He wouldn’t have dared to imagine one could experience utter relief along with heart-wrenching pain. Agron was back, more or less peacefully sleeping by his side. Yet he could see all the bruises, the cuts, now covered with bandages, the damaged hands. A formerly wild, proud man was only the shadow of his old self now, and Nasir prayed he would be able to offer the comfort his beloved needed but would never ask for.

Unable to stay on distance any longer, Nasir lifted a hand. Gentle fingertips caressed bruises that were starting to change colours already. The hint of a smile lit his face as he brushed through the man’s hair. They would have to cut it soon, or Agron would complain about it growing too long. A quiet chuckle escaped Nasir as he remembered how he had once cut the taller man’s hair with a dagger because he hadn’t been able to listen to the whining any longer.

The stubbles upon his jawline had grown, too. Shaving was in order. Nasir bit his bottom lip, wincing at a new rush of pain at the realisation that his beloved wouldn’t be able to do that on his own either.

A long list of activities that required healthy hands pushed its way into his mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, Nasir forced them back into a deep, dark corner. Now was no time for that. He fixed his eyes upon his lover instead. Agron had woken up as well. He could hear it in the change of breathing. A soft smile returned as he leaned in and placed feather-light kisses upon his man’s bruised cheek.

“Has slumber allowed exhausted body to catch much needed rest?” he whispered softly. He offered a warm smile as sleepy green eyes met his. The look in his beloved’s eyes shocked him no more. By now, he was prepared for a lack of sparks and energy within them. A broken man needed long to heal. Patience was a virtue.

“Dreams would interrupt,” Agron answered quietly.

Nasir nodded slowly. “Soon they shall fade, if mind learns to welcome aid of loving hands,” he assured him. His hand had returned to gentle touches, stroking through messy hair, caressing rough cheeks.

“Heart’s deepest desire was protection of loved ones,” Agron said then, pain in his eyes as piercing as ever. “I failed to save Duro…”

“But not to protect me,” Nasir interrupted him. “Here I lie, right by your side, unharmed and grateful with you in my arms.”

Agron looked away. “Yet what kind of warrior am I, to depend on aid like helpless piece of shit.”

Nasir couldn’t contain a gasp at those words. They cut right through him, burning deep within him, causing more pain than the blade once pressed to open wound. “How dare you speak such false words?” he managed to hiss eventually. “Which harmful thoughts have poisoned mind?”

“Neither are words false nor are thoughts harmful.”

“They are.” Nasir sighed. Cupping Agron’s cheeks, he made his man face him again, forced eyes to lock once more. “Never again do I wish to hear such words falling from beloved’s lips. Is one’s worth only defined by ability to hold sword and fight upon battlefields? I would not believe so. Otherwise you might declare most out there worthless. Is that what you’re saying?”

Agron shook his head. “Of course not. Yet…”

“No!” Nasir interrupted him firmly. “I will not listen to such lies, Agron!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Harm has been done to you. Cruel things. Some injuries might refuse to heal properly. All has been done by Rome’s brutal hands. Will you allow fucking Romans to defeat self? Have they won despite escape? Will you stay shattered upon ground like broken vessel? Or will stubborn mind step back, allow loving hands to offer aid and comfort? Will you allow help with putting pieces back together? Does Rome claim victory, or do you?”

His words were spoken with increasing passion. By the time his voice trailed off, Nasir found Agron gazing up at him in surprise. Something in his speech had obviously forced its way through the thick wall that had created itself around the bruised soul.

“Rome took Crixus,” Agron said eventually. “They shall not get me as well.”

Nasir nodded eagerly. “Then fight. Fight with me by your side, as it’s meant to be. Gods wouldn’t have returned you to arms of lover and friends if you had no worth. Hands might be damaged, yet patience and love might teach them skills again.”

The hint of a smile lit Agron’s face as he shook his head. “Little man stands as stubborn as ever.”

Nasir glared playfully, couldn’t resist a smile of his own though. He hadn’t heard the nickname in such a long time, and almost gratefully welcomed its return. “Love gains strength unknown,” he whispered back, capturing Agron’s lips in a loving kiss. “Now we shall rise. Wounds need tending, stomachs demand to be filled.”

Freeing himself of layers of blankets, Nasir got up. He stretched like a cat before he made his way over to the tent’s entrance. As he pushed the curtains aside, cold, fresh air greeted him, the rough breeze making him shiver. Bright sunshine blinded him. Taking in the still quiet camp, he took a deep breath, allowing the feelings deep within him to linger. For so long, he hadn’t experienced such relief anymore. Agron had been returned to his side, to his arms. Never again would they part ways. Spartacus would lead them into the peaceful life and freedom all of them deserved so badly.

As he turned around again, he realised Agron had made no attempt at getting up. Instead, he had returned to facing the wall of their tent. Joy was joined by a thick feeling or discomfort. He knew a hard challenge lay ahead: maybe the hardest he had ever had to face.

With another sigh, he headed over to the near table. Wordlessly, he filled a small bowl with water and prepared new bandages before he returned to their bedroll. He rested a hand upon Agron’s shoulder, urging him to roll over. Agron’s expression revealed he considered to disobey, but eventually sat up, wincing slightly in pain.

Nasir spoke no word as he started to tend his wounds. If Agron was so fast at retreating into himself despite showing agreement just moments earlier, he would have to deal with other kinds of attention. Carefully, he untied the large bandage across the taller man’s chest. With skilled, talented hands, he cleaned slowly healing gashes, making sure they looked fine before applying fresh bandages to them.

He ignored the way Agron tensed as Nasir’s attention shifted to his hands. They were the cause of the gladiator’s biggest problem. The Syrian forced his face to stay calm instead of displaying his pain at the sight of blood soaking the soft fabric. Like expected, he found the wounds still open and raw, leaking slightly. Despite his best attempts, he couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight. His own hands started to ache as he imagined what it must have been like to have nails run through one’s hands. Only when he picked up the wet piece of cloth, he realised his own ones were shaking now.

“Apologies,” he couldn’t help but whisper as he tried to wipe away fresh blood. Nasir felt Agron’s gaze heavily resting on him. He caressed his palm longer than necessary, unable to treat the wound like he had done with the others.

“Caesar,” Agron said quietly. At Nasir’s questioning look, he added, “He stood pleased with self as he ran nail through flesh. Told me I wouldn’t ever hold sword again.”

Nasir had to close his eyes in the attempt to keep rising rage at bay. Caesar, the traitor, had caused such harm. On purpose, he had done what would hurt every warrior the worst: taking his ability to fight.

“One day, Rome shall fall,” he said between gritted teeth then. “Gods will piss upon Caesar, drag him into tartarus where he belongs. Death himself will reward fucker with deserved punishment. Until then…” He met Agron’s gaze again. “Caesar claims victory, yet has he gained nothing. Here you are with me, and if we provide calmth and patience, hands will heal. They might not regain old strength, but shall be of use anyway. Promise.”

“Don’t promise what can’t be done,” Agron spoke, but Nasir shook his head.

“I have faith,” he said, utterly convinced. “I always had. In you. In us.”

“In us,” Agron repeated, nodding slowly. New pain appeared in his eyes, of a different kind this time. With it came guilt. He needed a while until he looked up again. “Apologies.”

He didn’t say more. Just one word. But said word revealed more than endlessly long speeches. Nasir knew exactly what his beloved was referring to. He felt sorry because he hadn’t had the deserved faith in him. In them. He felt sorry because of his words, because of their arguments, because he had left. Behind the pain and guilt, the Syrian could see understanding. No longer did doubts and insecurities regarding their love confuse the German’s mind. He had finally understood that his lover’s place had always been by his side. Always would be.

His warm smile returned as Nasir continued to take care of injured hands. He felt that Agron was still watching him, but something had changed. Everyone else would have missed it, so small was said change. It was a first step into the right direction though and he knew his faith in them was all they needed.


	15. Kinsmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is written for the wonderful thrandy-themajestic, who gave me a fantasy prompt, asking for Nagron to be winged creatures. Here you go, I hope it’s okay like that. :)
> 
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ Alternate Universe: Fantasy Setting ~ Word count: 676 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

He stepped out into the light, for a moment freezing in place. So this was what the world looked like. Since his earliest childhood, Nasir had been trapped inside the tall walls of his dominus’s home. Darkness had greeted him every morning when his eyes had opened. Own will and wishes had been taken from him years and years ago, leaving behind a seemingly empty shell which only purpose of existence was pleasing his master.

But no longer was he trapped in the tight grasp of this brutal man. No longer was he a precious creature, locked away like an animal in a cage. Freedom lay ahead, thanks to a determined man and his army.

Nasir shivered as cold breeze caressed smooth skin. He had forgotten what wind felt like. He had forgotten almost everything that had once mattered to him. Including who he was.

He squinted as the rising sun blinded him. Like a fireball it was rising in the far distance, causing the sea to glisten like it was filled with millions of diamonds. Up here, he could look on for miles. Who would have imagined the real world to be of such beauty?

He shivered again, wrapping his arms wound himself. Only a thin piece of cloth was wrapped around his waist, shielding the lower half of his body from curious eyes. Long raven hair was dancing in the wind, as if invisible fingers were running through it.

For a brief moment, Nasir tensed as he felt the touch of fingers upon his chin. Those fingers were gentle though, lifting his head. He met the green eyes of the man before him as he looked up and once more, he shivered. Not due to the cold.

“Another of our kinsmen is freed,” the man called Agron said to him, offering a friendly smile.

Kinsmen. They couldn’t have looked more differently from each other. The man was tall, muscular, with those green eyes and short, light-brown hair. His light skin created a beautiful contrast to Nasir’s darker one. Yet differences in appearance didn’t change that they were indeed of the same kind.

“How can I still be one of your own?” Nasir couldn’t help but ask, pain shining through in his dark brown eyes.

Agron’s expression didn’t change. Instead he stepped closer, lifting his hands in a silent question. When Nasir didn’t back off, he wrapped his arms around the shorter man, gently pulling him close. Before he could react, his kinsman took a firm hold on the collar around his neck, heavily resting there, marking him for too many years. He gasped as one quick movement ripped it off. The offending object had barely hit the stony ground beneath their feet when Nasir shuddered in surprise.

His eyes fluttered shut as Agron tightened his grip around his slender form. It was a strange feeling at first as the skin covering his shoulder blades started to part. Slowly, inch by inch, his wings grew like they hadn’t for so long. He had forgotten what this was like, although it should have been a natural, familiar experience. Seemingly an eternity passed until they had reached their full size, still a bit smaller than Agron’s though. Hesitantly, the feathers allowed themselves to spread, to be caressed by the increasing wind.

An involuntary whimper escaped him as Agron loosened his grip and pulled back. Once again, their eyes met. The man was still smiling.

“Now you’re one of our kind again,” he said. “Do you believe you still possess skills to let the wind carry you?”

Nasir found himself nodding without thinking. Yes, he could fly. It was part of who they were. Still he took the hand Agron offered to him, if only to keep the man by his side. A moment later, the villa lay behind them. A content sigh left his lips as he remembered what freedom was like. Closing his eyes, he allowed the wind in his wings and the man by his side to guide him, into whatever new world lay ahead.


	16. Loving Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to 30-11-1900, who gave me the prompt for this ficlet and asked for a story set after Agron and Nasir’s reunion.
> 
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ Canon Era ~ Word count: 541 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Mine.

Mine.

Forever mine.

Nasir wanted to hold on to him, wanted to make sure that he would never leave him again. Ever. His heart had shattered into pieces, his soul had been ripped apart as belief that he had lost the love of his life had filled his mind, had held on to it with brutal grip.

The Gods had shown mercy. Agron’s weight, resting upon his shoulders, assured Nasir that there he was, by his side. And right there would he stay.

Forever.

The world had faded into meaningless blur as Nasir guided his beloved back to his tent. Their tent. Home. At least for now. Only when its curtain slid into place behind them, shielding them from prying eyes and nagging voices did he allow himself a sigh of relief.

Gentle hands guided the tall gladiator to the near bedroll. No longer would it offer a warm place for sleep to only one person. No longer would nights be spend in loneliness.

So many thoughts were spinning in Nasir’s mind, all of them demanding instant attention. It was granted to none of them, as he knew more important matters than own wishes had to be taken care of.

Bruises of all shades, covering formerly light skin. Deep gashes in need of being cleaned and bandaged. Bleeding wounds upon hands, shielded from view by stained fabric. Formerly green eyes turned dull, unfocused. The sight of a broken man.

Broken into pieces, shattered by the hands of Roman shit. Anger started to blaze in the depth of his chest, but Nasir used skills made his own seemingly an eternity ago to push distracting hate aside. Slightly shaking hands reached out, took bandaged ones in a loving grip.

“Agron,” Nasir whispered, barely able to see clearly with tears threatening to fog his view. Warmth of familiar hands grounded him though. “Agron, please.”

Ever so slowly, the tall man, appearing as just a shell of the man the Syrian knew, lifted his head. Gazes met and Nasir found himself close to being overwhelmed by the pain that greeted him.

He knew there was a lot he could have said, a lot he wanted to say. But how would words heal wounds that ran so deep? Pride defined warriors. So did strength and the ability to fight. It seemed like all this had been taken away from the German, by dirty hands of the enemy. No spoken words could fix that.

But maybe loving hands could. Despite rising tears, Nasir felt a rush of warmth filling him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The gods had returned his beloved to his side, certainly trusting that he and only he knew how to put together pieces of broken soul.

“Please let me,” he whispered.

Agron gazed back wordlessly but Nasir didn’t need a vocal answer to understand. He could see it in every feature of the man’s face, in those eyes, could almost feel what his man wanted to say. Agron wouldn’t ask for help, but wouldn’t deny it either. Nothing would dare to part them again, and both were aware of it. Nasir offered a warm, encouraging smile as he lifted those bandaged hands, ready to give whatever he could.


	17. Love of my Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderful MW Onethirtyeight, who gave me this prompt: How about “the moment Agron realized he was in love with Nasir,” and/or “the moment Nasir realized he was in love with Agron.”
> 
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ Canon Era ~ Word count: 1,005 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Love had been a foreign concept to him for as long as he could remember - one certainly not made for him. Nasir could faintly remember a brother whom he had cared for until the day of their separation. During the following years, he had been taught to forget love and all such feelings as his only purpose in life had been limited to serving, existing as a mere shell - a body only, always ready to be used, without will, without wishes.

Adjusting to freedom after so many years spent with a collar around his neck had started off with faulty choices and turned into a rather tricky challenge. Learning that feelings were for former slave boys too seemed even harder.

Closing his eyes, Nasir released his breath in a content sigh. Every inch of his body had come to relax - an experience that was still so new, and certainly had never been made in the presence of another person. After all, a body slave’s duty was being on constant alert in case dominus would voice desires.

Agron didn’t request such things. In fact, the former gladiators made no requests in the first place apart from wishing that whatever Nasir offered was borne by own desires, not by belief of what his lover might demand.

The Syrian allowed himself to lie entirely still, head resting upon the taller man’s chest, heaving and falling with every deep breath. One of Agron’s hands was lazily running through his loose, black hair - a constant caress that went far beneath the sensitive skin of his skull. It was a loving gesture, so sweet and simple yet with such a strong effect.

No one had ever treated him with so much adoring tenderness. No one had ever bothered to watch out for his well-being, had encouraged him to develop and voice own wishes and needs rather than purely existing to please others.

To sum it up, Agron, the German beast from East of the Rhine, feared by many rebels, had opened up a new world for the former slave. He had handed all those options to him, with the dimpled smile and a warmth in his eyes that was directed only towards him. No longer was he a worthless shell, existing only to be used and abused. Spartacus had liberated him. Agron had opened his eyes to make him see that yes, he was a human being, a person after all.

A sleepy smile lit his face as he wrapped an arm around the tall man’s slender waist, tightly holding on. Nasir didn’t know when exactly he had fallen in love with Agron. But he knew very well that he had been aware of changed feelings the moment he had understood that this rough, strong man was able to offer something no one else ever had, ever would.

To Agron, he wasn’t Tiberius, the former body slave, neither was he the future rebel, expected to become part of the cause. To him, he was simply Nasir - a person with wishes and feelings. How could he not love this man with all he had, finally allowing himself to experience what he had never dared to believe was made for him as well.

Little did he know that unaware of own actions, he had done exactly the same for the former gladiator. Tightening his arm around the small form of his lover, Agron felt himself getting lost in the simplicity of the moment.

Love was a concept Agron was very well aware of. He had loved his brother deeply, from the bottom of his heart. Since his earliest childhood, he had watched out for Duro, always determined to keep the reckless boy safe from the violent world and from himself.

Until Duro had taken matters into own hand, just to fall to Roman sword. Agron knew that an eternity could pass and something deep within him would still be shattered into pieces. Some broken things just couldn’t be fixed. So long as he was reunited with his beloved baby brother, something would always been missing.

But, unaware of it at first, Agron had stumbled across the very only cure that might not fix him but would heal a good part of what had been bruised so badly. Rage and grief had driven him close to madness, until he had locked eyes with a Syrian slave boy. Those eyes had been filled with a fire that had taken him aback - after all, how could a simple slave work up the courage to aim for the life of Spartacus himself?

Said wild, little dog, so different from himself, had something to offer that forced its way through the thick wall of pain Agron had constructed around his broken soul. More than once, he had noticed how much he involuntarily cared for the Syrian. Somehow, unbeknownst by the raging warrior, the little man had weaseled his way into his mind, and firmly refused to leave again.

Bending down, Agron placed a loving kiss into Nasir’s hair. He could see it in those brown eyes - every sweet kiss, every tender touch, every sweet word was a new experience for his lover. All the more he was determined to erase bad memories from mind and replace them with those of loving kind.

Little did the Syrian know how much he was giving every day with the way only he knew how to treat the hurting warrior. A gentle touch, a warm look, a beautiful smile. Nothing else was needed to soothe the raging beast that reared its ugly head on fewer and fewer occasions.

Mine, both said as they held on to what had become the love of their lives. Two lost souls had found their way to each other in the wake of blood and pain. When Nasir lifted his head, Agron met his gaze. Neither spoke a word as their eyes stayed locked in a gaze that promised so much and said even more.

I’m in love with you.


	18. Proud Warriors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet anonymous asked for Agron being proud of Nasir. I hope this idea works. :)
> 
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ Canon Era ~ Word count: 801 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Weakened legs barely managed to carry battered and bruised body as Agron left the tent he had come to call his home, slowly making his way through camp in search for Nasir. His love had left him earlier, claiming he was in need of some training and could use the chance to sharpen others’ skills as well. They would need every capable man for the battle that lay ahead.

Soon after he had been nailed to a piece of wood by Caesar, Agron’s mind had retreated to a surreal world at the edge of afterlife, blinding out the roaring pain shooting into every inch of his broken body. Even after his liberation, the first few days had passed without his notice. A lot of rest had been required until the fog had lifted, until he had slowly but steadily returned to the world of the living.

He doubted he would have bothered to, had there not been those loving hands of his man. Not even for the split of a moment Nasir had dared to leave him alone, tending his injuries in silent acceptance. No unnecessary words had been spoken, no questions had been asked. The Syrian knew what had happened to his beloved with a single glance at the glaring, bleeding wounds in his palms.

No one else had been allowed to approach the German during those days. Nasir had shielded him like the wild, little dog he was still called at times. Yet, even though Agron had always been aware of what his little man was capable of, he had to admit something had changed in those warm, brown eyes.

He stood a few feet away from where Nasir was training, on his own now but closely watched by newer recruits. For a moment, constant pain caused by destroyed hands and open gashes was forgotten as Agron focused his entire attention on the short warrior.

Body slaves could never become gladiators - not too long ago had he been convinced by own spoken words. Nasir had proven him wrong, and not only him. He was deadly with the spear, his weapon of choice, well-trained fighters would find a worthy sparring partner in sword fighting. Determination and the wish to participate in a cause he believed in had pushed the Syrian, on and on.

A proud smile tugged at the corner’s of Agron’s mouth as he watched Nasir move. Every single step, every strike of his sword was well-planned, would have taken down whatever enemy dared to cross his path. Teeth were gritted tightly, soft features tense. What struck him the most though was the look in those dark eyes. He saw a fire blazing in there, capable of letting whole empires go up in flames. Nasir had grown fierce since they had left the sanctuary behind, had turned into a true fighter with every passing day, every won battle.

But such a fire hadn’t existed yet the day he had chosen to follow Crixus into battle. Something had shifted between them, and Agron didn’t need to hear the words to know his lover’s intentions. No longer would his wild, little Syrian allow him to make decisions for them. Not again would he allow the German to cast him aside and leave him behind, even though Agron had made the choice to protect the love of his life.

No, Nasir wasn’t going to agree to any of his plans anymore. Instead he was getting prepared. For Agron, there was no doubt left that Nasir would follow him into battle if he chose to go with Spartacus. Not even for the split of a moment would his little man back away from his side. Two souls, tied to each other by love itself. The Syrian was strong and determined to get even stronger so he would be able to defend and protect his beloved from Roman shit. Not a single one of them would dare to lay hand upon him again.

Only a short while ago, the thought alone would have been enough to cause discomfort in the depth of his chest, paired with a mix of concern and the urge to shield Nasir from every kind of harm that could possibly be inflicted upon him. He wouldn’t lose yet another beloved to the sword of Roman bastard.

Now, battered and bruised, with destroyed hands and broken soul, he stood prouder than ever as he watched his little man. A true little smile lit his face as Nasir paused then, turning around, meeting Agron’s gaze. Another silent conversation took place between those two, and no spoken words were needed to bring each other’s thoughts across. They would stay by each other’s side, brought together by fate itself, inseparable until the end of the world. No foolish choice should ever change that.


	19. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story created itself thanks to a conversation with fuckyeahgannicusandsibyl. ;)
> 
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir, Gannicus/Sibyl ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ Canon Era ~ Word count: 1,114 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Arms crossed in front of his chest, Agron watched his beloved with an amused smirk tearing at the corners of his mouth. Nasir was his anchor, the only person who had ever figured out how to calm him down with little effort. Only the Syrian dared to chuckle when he was raging like a storm. Only he knew what to say to turn the German beast from East of the Rhine into the gentle lover he had fallen in love with.

On rare occasions though, it was said Syrian who was struck with madness, unwilling to settle down. Agron shook his head as Nasir hurried down the stairs that led to their bedroom, wooden stairs squealing in agony. Threat of harm inflicted upon them by Roman bastards was not cause of restless behaviour though. Out here, in the yet calm and peaceful lands so close to his old home, the brutal hand of Rome was still absent, and hopefully would be for a while.

Seemingly an eternity had passed ever since the massive Alps had been passed by those that had survived the rebellion. Groups had split up and headed in different directions, seeking freedom and home. In company of three other rebels they held close to heart, Agron and Nasir had continued their way north until they had arrived at a small village and had decided to stay.

By now, they called a small house at the village’s border their own - a little farm with crops and goats that felt more home than any other place Agron had ever known. Nasir would still good-naturedly tease him, pointing out his statement that he wasn’t a sheppard had been wrong, but this joke aside, no further words were wasted upon mistakes from the past.

Reaching out, Agron wrapped an arm around Nasir’s waist as his man attempted to hurry past him. Quickly, he wound his other arm around him, trapping the shorter man in a tight embrace. Keeping Nasir still had gotten more difficult over the years. Former body slave had turned into a fierce warrior indeed, with strength one wouldn’t suspect.

“Agron!” Nasir sighed, not trying to wiggle his way out of the former gladiator’s arms, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere. “House still is in need of cleaning for guests’ arrival.”

The German laughed, shaking his head at the adoring man before him. “Guests of what kind? Those are friends dearest to heart! Tent has been shared during rough storms with them. Certainly house could be filled with piles of shit and still would be good enough.” He laughed even more at the look he received in response. Leaning in, he placed a loving kiss upon Nasir’s forehead. “I would wish you to calm down and await arrival of friends rather than driving self mad.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nasir looked like he was about to argue back. Eventually, he gave in with a sigh. Resting his head against his tall lover’s chest, he wrapped his arms around Agron’s waist. No further words were spoken, but Agron was well aware of thoughts spinning within Syrian’s mind. Old habits couldn’t easily be erased, yet both were learning that freedom was theirs now.

In calm silence, they waited outside their house until they spotted the silhouettes of their guests in the distance. Warmth filled his chest as Agron saw the happy smile that lit Nasir’s face at the sight. Coming around for a visit at least daily had become an habit ever since the former rebels had chosen the small village as new home.

Familiar sparks appeared in Nasir’s eyes as he greeted Sibyl first, carrying her baby boy who had grown to impressive size considering his age. Agron refused to remember the day of the child’s birth. Nasir, having assisted the pregnant woman, had demanded him to stay around as well, and so he had witnessed a woman giving birth for the second time. He doubted he would ever get used to the sight.

“Good to see you, brother,” he said as he turned to Gannicus then. Laying eyes upon the former God of the Arena still felt like facing an entirely reborn person. No longer would one catch the man drunk and hunting for the next woman to bed. Instead something deep within the strong warrior had settled down. Agron could relate: he had gone through a similar change.

Crystal clear were memories of moment when he, Nasir, Sibyl and Laeta had stood in front of long row of crucified brothers and sisters. Pain had threatened to tear them apart, until realisation had hit them that some of their beloved could still be alive. Gannicus had been among them.

Wounds had taken long to heal. Sibyl had proven herself to be of surprising strength once more as she had offered the right amount of patience for the man owning her heart. Eventually, Agron and Gannicus had broken their silence in front of warming fireplace, absent everyone else, giving word to pain suffered upon cross. Both still carried marks that would forever remind them of the way Roman shit had tried to break them.

They hadn’t succeeded though. Something had shattered deep within them, but gentle hands of beloveds had patiently put together broken pieces. Settling down with Sibyl and Nasir instead of turning back and making yet another attempt at Rome’s fall hadn’t been up for debate.

“Good to see you, too,” Gannicus stated, crooked smirk spreading across his face as he shook offered hand. Something unspoken passed between them like it always did when the two former warriors faced each other. Not even for the split of a second had they regretted putting their beloveds first, finally choosing peace and home over battle and revenge.

Agron’s eyes darted to Nasir then, his smile widening as he found his lover holding the baby boy now. The sight caused a strange longing deep within him and the knowing look he received from Gannicus told him the man by his side knew.

“We should retire to inside of house,” Sibyl suggested then. “I fear if food isn’t eaten soon, my man will starve the way he keeps saying ever since meal was prepared earlier.”

“Yet my appetite will no match one of always hungry son,” Gannicus said with a growing grin.

Laughter echoed across the farm. Gannicus accepted his child handed back to him and wrapped an arm around Sibyl. Agron felt how Nasir snuggled up against his side, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. Once again, exchanged words weren’t needed as everything could be said so easily with just a single look. This was home. This was family. Nothing else did a man need.


	20. In Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Your Arms  
> Word Count: 442  
> Rating: PG - 13  
> Original/Fandom: Spartacus  
> Pairings (if any): Agron/Nasir  
> Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): none  
> Summary: In each other’s arms, they would find everything they needed.  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

He was kissed awake by the warmth of early morning sunshine. Blinking his eyes open, Nasir allowed himself a moment to become aware of his surroundings before a gentle smile lit his lips. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around the taller body by his side. Closing his eyes once more, he took in the familiar smell of his lover before he placed heated lips against sleep-warmed skin.

Agron stirred but didn’t give any indications that he was fully awake yet. Watching his man now, Nasir ran his fingers through short, sun-bleached hair in a loving gesture. Seeing the German so peaceful and relaxed without the taletelling frown across his forehead touched his heart.

The night before had been of a rougher kind than usual. Agron was known for his blazing temper, easily getting engaged in a fight if one was so reckless to provoke the former gladiator.

Last night, though, Agron hadn’t allowed people to approach him close enough. Even Nasir had needed his fair share of attempts at stepping up until he had broken through the thick wall his lover had erected around himself.

Eventually, the Syrian had held the taller man in his arms, soothingly stroking his back as Agron had given in, had admitted he was mourning the loss of his brother Duro, having passed away moons ago. Having been reminded of such unfortunate events, memories had increased the rage, had brought back the heart-wrenching pain that had once threatened to tear him apart.

Agron stirred again. This time, Nasir saw how those green eyes blinked open, how eyebrows furrowed in a moment of confusion. He continued to thread his fingers through soft hair, the hint of a smile lighting his face as Nasir felt how, after tensing up for a moment, Agron allowed himself to relax.

Nasir wanted to break the silence, wanted to ask if sleep had treated his beloved well, if thoughts were of a more pleasing kind now. But then his eyes met the German’s as Agron rolled onto his back, gazing up at him, and he knew no words were needed.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers along his lover’s stubbly jawline, his smile widening as warmth filled his chest. You’re mine, he thought, and I am yours. No words were needed to ease pain, to reassure and give confidence. Much had been taken from them in the past, but no longer would obstacles been faced alone.

Leaning in, Nasir offered Agron a loving kiss, not more than a feather-light whisper against sensitive skin. The world had moved far into the distance as they held on to each other, cherishing the beauty of closeness.


	21. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Spartacus  
> Pairing: Agron/Nasir  
> Rating: PG - 13  
> Warning/Notes: none  
> Word count: 1,076  
> Title used: 01x10: Nightmares  
> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Night had fallen upon the sanctuary. Rebels had found themselves spots to lie down for a restful slumber. Only guards upon wall and outside the entrance gates kept watchful eyes on their surroundings. It was a clear night with a full moon and stars offering their pale light. A soft breeze eased the heaviness of humid air.

A perfect night for much needed sleep, yet one lone German warrior found himself unable to close his eyes. Restlessly, he made his way through the hallways until he came across an empty room. He didn’t know why no one had claimed it yet, and couldn’t have cared less. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto dusty steps, leading down to an empty basin. Probably some kind of bath, back when the temple had been more than a heap of stones and leaky roof planks.

Another sigh passed his lips. Shaking his head, Agron buried his face in his hands for a moment. Nightmares weren’t foreign to him, yet they had taken him by surprise tonight as he hadn’t been bothered by them for a while.

Duro. He tensed as a mental image of the familiar face pushed its way into his mind. For every single night, his brother had accompanied in his dreams. Sometimes, Duro had been alive, laughing with him, fighting by his side. Agron would wake up with a heavy ache in the depth of his chest.

Other times, he would remember in great details how Duro had fallen to Roman sword in attempt to protect him. Those nightmares would tear Agron from sleep, screaming in agony and covered in sweat.

Opening his eyes again, he ran his hands through short, damp hair. Tonight, it had happened again. Tonight, he had seen it all, the vivid details of the one moment that would haunt him forever. Tonight, sleep wouldn’t return to him.

Tonight, he felt as lonely as ever.

Agron felt himself shiver, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat that took his breath away. One could argue if he had the right to claim he was alone: he had woken up to a lover lying by his side. Said lover had been peacefully asleep though. The German had found himself incapable to disturb him. His little Syrian was struggling with own ghosts from the past, albeit he was talented at hiding those and wiping all agony from his beautiful face.

Slumped forward, with arms resting upon his upper thighs, Agron stared ahead at no point in particular. His thoughts had drifted miles away, back home to Germania. In front of his inner eyes he saw a younger version of himself, with a laughing Duro by his side. The innocence of childhood, he thought. Neither of them had been aware of the danger that awaited them outside the village borders, of the future filled with blood and pain that lay ahead.

His entire body jerked in surprise as he felt a gentle, warm hand coming to rest upon his shoulder. With huge eyes, he spun around, meeting the warm brown eyes of his lover.

“Did I rise you from sleep?” Agron asked with a rush of guilt.

Nasir shook his head. Sinking to his knees by the taller man’s side, he wrapped his arms around the German’s torso, holding him in a surprisingly strong grip. The Syrian was often underestimated due to lack of height, but certainly possessed an impressive amount of strength.

“I wish pain and hurtful thoughts had been shared with lover,” Nasir said then, gently brushing his index finger across Agron’s forehead, smoothing out the frown between his eyebrows.

“Peaceful slumber is rarity that shouldn’t be disturbed by foolish, uncontrolled feelings.”

Nasir’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Foolish? Pain caused by such loss as yours shall never be referred to as foolish, neither should it be suppressed.” Leaning in, he brushed his lips against Agron’s cheek in a loving, lingering kiss. “You offered to shoulder weight, yet do not wish to accept provided support in return. I wish you to treat self with equal kindness as you treat others.”

A sad smile lit the German’s face as he asked, “Is such kindness deserved though?”

Frowning in response, Nasir tightened his grip. “Not pain is foolish, but thoughts borne from false guilt certainly are.”

“How is guilt false if Duro…”

“No!” Nasir interrupted firmly. “I refuse to listen to words of such destructive kind. Duro chose own actions in favor to protect the one he loved most. Same decision would have made by you had positions been switched.” His expression softened as he added, “Never should you feel need to suffer in loneliness if words provided by lover could ease pain and guilt. If lover’s nightmares are allowed to rise you from sleep, same right shall apply to you.”

Agron chose not to offer a vocal response this time. Instead his gaze locked with Nasir’s again. The amount of warmth and genuine support in those brown eyes touched his heart. He knew every single word spoken by his Syrian was of utter honesty. His lover wanted to be by his side, wanted to offer support and help shoulder weight.

Like he was so determined to do as well. Many times had he offered a helping hand to the little man: upon training field or during restless nights when thoughts of the past had taken over his mind. Nasir had needed his time to leave behind Tiberius and become his old self again: a personality he had gotten rid of as a young boy seemingly an eternity ago. All the time, the former gladiator had stood firmly by his side, offering guidance and comfort if needed.

Was it really so wrong to accept help in return? Was it fair to decline offer and rise from sleep alone rather than waking his man and asking for what Nasir was so willing to give?

“Words are considered and shall be remembered next time nightmares disturb sleep,” he said eventually.

The words pleased Nasir and brought a warm smile to the Syrian’s face. Agron took his lover’s hand as it was offered to him and hesitated only for the split of a moment until he followed him back to their chambers. Indeed, he wasn’t lonely, and no longer expected to deal with nightmares on his own. Give and take, he thought, feeling gratitude as a gentle arm stayed wrapped around his waist all the way back to bed.


	22. Stolen Glances, Forbidden Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.
> 
> Rating: PG -13

Adrenaline pumped through his body as he strode into the arena, Duro by his side. His back straightened with confidence as the crowd cheered for them. The sweet taste of glory. Which man could resist?

Agron’s hand tightened around his sword, a grin spreading across his face. Upon sand of the arena was his home, the only world he knew. Soon, their opponents would find themselves defeated while he and his brother would return inside, covered in dust and blood.

But no longer was his entire attention focused on the games he was trained for every day from dusk until dawn. Just briefly, the gladiator allowed his eyes to stray away from purpose and dart towards the balcony above.

There he stood, warm sun illuminating deep brown eyes, causing long, raven hair to sparkle softly. He stood by his dominus’s side, collar around neck, white fabric of his loincloth creating a sharp contrast to smooth, dark skin.

Their eyes met for the split of a moment. Immediately, Nasir lowered his gaze again like every slave should, yet Agron didn’t miss the fire in those eyes he adored so much.

His little Syrian would watch every of his movements as he killed yet another gladiator for Roman shit’s entertainment. This knowledge spurred him on more than the prospect of a whip’s end meeting abused skin.

The German brothers roared in victory as their enemies found their end upon the sands of the arena. Once again, Agron stole a glance at the short slave, feeling heat rising in the pit of his stomach as he found Nasir’s attention focused on him again. Images of dark cells at night, two bodies entwined, roaming and exploring hands, lips parted to release sighs of pleasure filled his mind.

Stolen glances and forbidden moments - it was all they had. But for now, so he believed, it was more than enough.


	23. Love Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Mira/Saxa, Agron/Nasir ~ Rating: PG - 13 ~ canon verse ~ Word count: 695 ~ Disclaimer: I DON’T own anyone or anything. I DON’T own the characters. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit.

Weight of the world seemed to be resting upon her shoulders as Mira sat on the stairs leading into the sanctuary. Her eyes had followed the rebel leader for a while before she forced herself to direct attention elsewhere.

Spartacus cared; so much she knew. But never would he feel for her the way she did for him. Never would a woman be able to replace Sura, or even own half the space of his heart that would forever be hers.

If only she had been cautious enough not to fall in love. If only she had been wise enough to erect a thick wall around her heart and protect it from harm.

Her gaze continued to wander until it came to rest upon another couple. A weak smile lit her face at the sight. Agron and Nasir wouldn’t display open gestures of affection towards one another, yet no doubt was left of who owned their respective hearts. In those exchanged glances lay so much love that it warmed her heart even from the distance.

But such deep feelings also was a constant reminder of what she longed for herself, but most likely would never experience. Not with Spartacus anyway. Her smile widened a hint as Agron’s gaze briefly met hers. She felt strong gratitude that the German warrior had found himself a kind soul who was able to heal his broken heart.

Agron had belonged to the small group of men not interested in finding himself a lover at the ludus, too occupied with keeping his younger brother safe. After losing Duro to Roman sword, it had appeared like the former gladiator threatened to spiral out of control with overwhelming rage. Gods had shown their favor though as they had put the little Syrian slave by his side. Smiles…never had she believed to see those upon the German’s face again.

Her smile fell as she felt the familiar sting of loneliness in the depth of her chest. If only the gods held such a kind gift for her as well. Lowering her gaze, Mira fiddled with a loose piece of fabric. With thoughts drifted far away, she missed the curious eyes that watched her from across the training field. Only when their owner joined her on the steps, she looked up, surprised to find herself in the unexpected company of Saxa.

“Warum lässt du dir von einem verdammten Mann die Freude am Leben nehmen?” the German woman asked. As Mira raised her eyebrows in lack of understanding, Saxa sighed. “Meaning why allow man to…destroy happiness?”

“Oh, but no man is to blame for absence of joy,” Mira answered, cursing herself for displaying her feelings so openly. Saxa snorted in response.

“Why does smile go away when eyes look at Spartacus?” she wanted to know, struggling to use the for her foreign tongue. Before Mira got a chance to speak and defend herself, the German shook her head. A wicked smirk lit her face as she said, “Du solltest deine Aufmerksamkeit jemandem widmen, der dich zu schätzen weiß.”

Once again, Mira frowned in confusion, but her eyes darted quickly towards Agron, who laughed at the exchange.

“Saxa’s words are intended to create understanding that attention should only drift towards those worth it.” Instinctively, his eyes shifted to the man resting against his chest with his back. Nasir’s gaze met his, a warm smile lit his face. Another wordless exchange took place between the lovers. Mira didn’t doubt for the split of a moment that the surrounding world was far from important to them at this point.

When she turned back to Saxa though, she found the woman still smirking, something sparkling in her eyes that caused a strange, ticklish sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t surprised as the blonde warrior reached out, grabbed her face and pulled her into a forceful kiss before she took Mira’s hand and dragged her off the stairs.

Mira’s mind was spinning, slowly filling with wholly new options as she followed the German. To her surprise, thoughts of Spartacus erased themselves from her mind with every step, and took the pain of loneliness with it.


End file.
